


Glitter & Applause

by meggieglad



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, But a little different, M/M, also he cant dance, au where color guard is a bigger deal than it really is, color guard AU, idk im SOrry im an angst loving ho, jean is a sabre bc of course, jeremy decides he would give jean the world and jean decides jeremy is his world, jeremy is literally a bouncing bean, jeremy is rifle line, lots of pizza for no real reason, not that bad probably?, some made up trojans, the foxes are a mess as per usual, the ravens are a cg too, they are still corrupt af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggieglad/pseuds/meggieglad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know nothing.”</p><p>“I know that you deserve much better than the Ravens, Jean Moreau.” He said, sadly. He looked Jean in the face for a long few moments until the Raven finally had to meet his eye. Jeremy couldn’t even tell if his words had registered. Jean’s eyes were blank, and tired, and lined with black show makeup that Jeremy could only suspect had been smudged by tears.</p><p>Jean never showed up at awards that night.<br/>-<br/>Jerejean AU where everything is the same except the exy teams are actually color guards. So mostly nothing is the same. Either way they are flag loving dorks who fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Transfer & A Flashback

**Author's Note:**

> OK this is soooo self serving like no one else is going to enjoy this but in case someone wants to I'm going to do a little color guard cheat sheet or smth:
> 
> Color Guard: Tbh just watch this emotional montage- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=omyrS8UDk1g  
> WGI: Winter Guard International, The Circut™, international competition circuit for indoor guards  
> Flag: just big flags, spin em all at once and it looks pretty, the basic and integral piece of cg equipment  
> Rifle: looks like a gun but is just a block of wood, are also spun  
> Sabre: a sword but it's not sharp enough to kill you, probably  
> Toss: when ya throw one of those ^ into the air and catch it  
> Drop: when ya dont catch a toss, dang  
> Toss-Turn: when ya turn around while ya toss is in the air  
> Mat/Floor: a tarp ya unfold before ya show to spin on, pretty colors/ designs that go with ya show  
> MNA: i made up this circuit

*  
JK

It was always mildly difficult for Jeremy to imagine anything in his life going wrong.

No, that was a lie, but it was a happy lie, and Jeremy was better-off living out the days on a lie than giving into the ambiguous storm-cloud thoughts that hovered just on the fringes of his mind each night. So, Jeremy was decidedly an optimist.

Of course, Jean’s transfer to the Trojans was included in Jeremy’s happy world of denial. Why wouldn’t it be? A new member of the team, of their family; what could go wrong with that?

“Well, its mid-season, for one,” Alverez supplied, when Jeremy expressed these sentiments to her after rehearsal, “and we have no idea how fast he’ll pick up the show. Not to mention he’s a _Raven_.” Jeremy lifted his gaze to meet her wary eyes, levelling with her.

“He is not. Not anymore.” Jeremy was adamant. “C’mon. Give him a chance.” Jeremy pleaded. “And if not, give me one. Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” Alverez looked torn between the sarcastic and serious response, but Jeremy knew they both meant the same thing, anyway. In the end, she shook her head, a ghost of a smile somewhere at the corners of her lips.

“You’re insane sometimes, Captain.” Then she nodded and wandered off, flag bag slung effortlessly over her shoulder.

She was right, he knew. He should have thought about it more, discussed it with the team, made a pros and cons list. He should have at least slept on it, and he probably would have had it been anyone else. But it hadn’t been. It had been _Jean Moreau._

The moment Jean’s name left Kevin’s mouth Jeremy was on board. In fact, when he said it, he could swear his heart stopped in his chest. Jean, out of everyone. Out of all the Ravens who might have transferred and all the guards Jean might have chosen.

He really wished he wasn’t such a firm believer in fate.

The Ravens were _the_ Color Guard. They were probably the single reason the sport had blown up in the past few years. They were adored by the Color Guard world. And sure, they were impressive, there was no denying, with their clean and complicated flagwork, their conceptual program design, and their downright scary uniformity.

Jeremy hated them, was the thing.

It was more than the fact that they had become constitutionally unbeatable in certain circuits. It was more than their bad attitudes and unsportsmanlike conduct, which Jeremy just found a bit embarrassing.

It was the way none of them seemed to actually like what they were doing. He had seen many a spinner’s passion morph into something vastly unhealthy under the influence of the Ravens. Color guard was everything to Jeremy, he was in love with it. He was sure none of the Ravens were in love with it, not anymore. It was heartless obsession that drove them all now. And still, the members returned each season, like winning was worth hating the rest of your life.

There had always been rumors about the staff (cruel, vicious, abusive), but they were just whispers and they could never be heard over the screaming crowds.

That is, until some interesting news came out about unfair and binding contracts and half of the Raven’s staff ended up in jail. The rest of the staff weren’t even suspended. They didn’t even think about folding for the season, just replaced their lost instructors with new blood and charged on.

And all of the Ravens stayed. All of the Ravens except Jean Moreau.

Jean left mid-season and the Ravens were two instructors and one spinner down, but that didn’t stop the judges from practically eating out of the Raven’s palms after their first show. It seemed that the Ravens could put anything out on the floor and the judges would consider it artistic and revolutionary. As if everyone didn’t know the Moriyamas had family on the Raven’s staff and the judge’s panel.

Jeremy was not a hateful person, and he was not bitter about many things, but the political undertones that had developed within the Color Guard community was definitely one of the few.

Of course, Jeremy trained his Trojans to be sugary sweet to the Ravens when they saw each other at shows. They had a reputation to uphold, after all, and their kindness always seemed to drive the Ravens crazy.

There was also a part of Jeremy that felt like the Raven kids could use a little kindness, a part of him that felt unceasingly awful for the Ravens. It was this part of him that felt like he should help them somehow, like he should save them. (It was this part of him that followed Jean Moreau into the bathroom at the MNA Midwestern Champs in the spring of 2013.)

*

He was supposed to be lining up for awards. It should have been a full retreat, after all. It was championships and Jeremy’s high school was slotted to come first in their class. Jeremy was a very proud captain that year.

So, he should have been at awards, but instead, he had gone off to load the floor cart into the truck all by himself. He didn’t mind all that much. It was just, everyone had been so happy after their performance, Jeremy didn’t want to ruin their mood by making them help. The request would only raise tensions and start arguments, and Jeremy didn’t want the night ruined with a fight about who had to help with the chores. The cart wasn’t that heavy, Jeremy could handle it. (He was a strong, independent Rifle, thank you very much.)

It was just, he might have underestimated how difficult the actual loading process would be and it took a bit longer than he expected. The cold had a bite tonight, and Jeremy zipped his track jacket all the way up to his chin before rolling the cart out into the street lit parking lot.

 Retreat had definitely started by the time he was done. Still Jeremy just couldn’t be angry as he reentered the building and made for the gym, not when he could imagine his team waiting in a line, buzzing with happy smiles, their hands clasped tightly, and confetti glittering in their hair. His struggle with the floor was definitely worth that.

Jeremy bustled down the hallway, sweating now that he was back inside. He yanked off his jacket and tugged at the neck of his uniform to keep from overheating. Another problem arose when he realized he didn’t quite know where he was. He was sure he had been turning down all of the right hallways, but he was definitely lost. He was beginning to worry he would miss the ceremony completely when he saw a dark figure storm gloomily around a corner.

It was nothing but a flash of black through the fluorescent white of the hallway, but it was only _one_ flash of black, and that’s what intrigued Jeremy. Not only that, but Jeremy could have sworn he saw the boy’s head hung low, cradled in his hands. It was like he was crying, but that couldn’t be right. Ravens travelled in pairs and the sight of one doing anything with their face other than sneering was disconcerting, to say the least.

Jeremy followed the Raven without a second thought. He was completely lost anyway, so it was really his only option, although he has the sneaking suspicion he would have followed no matter what. Jeremy rounded a corner just in time to see the Raven disappear into the bathroom down the hall. Jeremy picked up his pace and was able to catch the door before it swung shit. Jeremy listened for a moment before inching inside, careful, quiet, and slightly terrified.

Jeremy could see the Raven, but the boy in black hadn’t seemed to notice he was being followed. He was hunched over one of the sinks, his palms pressing desperately into his eyes, as if to forcibly stop tears from leaving his body. Jeremy felt his heart breaking in his chest. He wished the mirror wasn’t blacked from his angle, he wanted to see the boy’s face.

Jeremy flinched when the boy moved suddenly, his eyes snapping up at the mirror and his hands curling into fists and gripping the side of the sink. Jeremy felt rooted to the floor. He couldn’t move from his awkward half-in-half-out spot in the doorway one way or another. There was still a part of him that was scared, sure, but that wasn’t it.

All at once, Jeremy realized what this was about. He had heard multiple accounts of the Raven who dropped his sabre during their performance that night. He had heard how the audience was eerily and utterly quiet in the moments following, heard how it had only taken the Raven a half count to get back in, heard how his quick recovery did not smooth out the furious wrinkles in the forehead of the Raven’s head director. His team had laughed about it, hell, _Jeremy_ had laughed about it, but now he wanted to cry. It was unheard of, was the thing. Jeremy wasn’t sure anyone could remember a Raven dropping in a show. It just didn’t happen.

The Raven spun around to face Jeremy and he caught a flash of the name that was embroidered on the left side breast of the Raven’s glossy black track jacket. (Jean Moreau 2013- ) The knowledge of Jean’s name took the edge off of Jeremy’s fear and reminded him that Ravens were living, breathing, and apparently feeling human beings, despite how robotic the attempted to seem.

Jeremy left his perch in the doorway and slid the rest of the way into the bathroom. Jeremy looked him in the eye and realized with a start that Jean couldn’t be any older than he was. He couldn’t be older than seventeen, maybe even sixteen. He was so _young_ to be a Raven, so young to be a World Class spinner in general.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy started, once the bathroom door was closed once more. “I don’t mean to bother you. It’s just, you seem…” he hesitated, “upset. And you guys never walk around alone.” Jeremy rambled, waiting for any sort of acknowledgement to cross over Jean’s features. “I was worried.” He explained farther, when Jean continued to stare at him blankly.

“Just leave.” Jean said after a beat, and his voice was so much higher and softer than Jeremy could ever have guessed. He was so young.

“But, I—”

“I said go. Now.” He turned back to the sink and ran the cold water, splashing his face a few times. When he came back up he made eye contact with Jeremy in the mirror. “Are you deaf? I told you to leave.”

“Would you like to walk back to the gym with me?” Jeremy asked, urgently. The question had just spilled out of him. He needed to make sure the boy was alright. He really just couldn’t leave Jean sad and alone in a bathroom, he just couldn’t. Jean blinked in shock before staring at Jeremy as though he had twelve heads. Jean said nothing, only continued to gape at Jeremy with an unreadable expression. So Jeremy soldiered on. “To tell you the truth I don’t exactly know how to get back? All these hallways look the same to me and this school is giant. I guess that’s why they have Regionals here, you know? Makes a lot of sense actually when you think abou—”

Suddenly, Jean was moving, shoving past Jeremy and exiting the bathroom. Jeremy quickly followed behind, trotting a bit to keep up with Jean’s easy stride. Part of Jeremy told him that Jean was possibly not leading them towards the gym and was actually taking them to some dark corner of the school so he could punch Jeremy in the face, but as mentioned earlier, Jeremy was an optimist.

Jean didn’t seem to want to say anything, but the silence was heavy and uncomfortable so Jeremy just sort of talked. He was good at talking, he could ramble for a half hour if no one stopped him. He told Jean about his show, and the season, and about his aspirations to spin with the Trojans. Jeremy couldn’t be sure Jean was listening to any of it.

It only took a few turns before Jeremy started to recognize their surroundings and soon enough they were in front of the gym. Jean came to a stop in front of the double doors. Jeremy looked at him but he just gestured at the doors with his hand, exasperated.

“Aren’t you coming in?” He asked. Jean shook his head like he couldn’t believe Jeremy could be so dumb.

“I’m already fucked, and you think I am going to walk in there with a Trojan?” He spat the name like a curse.

“What? That’s ridiculous! I’m not a Trojan yet, and even if I was, we can walk in at the same ti—”

“You know nothing.”

“I know that you deserve much better than the Ravens, Jean Moreau.” He said, sadly. He looked Jean in the face for a long few moments until the Raven finally had to meet his eye. Jeremy couldn’t even tell if his words had registered. Jean’s eyes were blank, and tired, and lined with black show makeup that Jeremy could only suspect had been smudged by tears.

Jean never showed up at awards that night.

*

After that, Jeremy couldn’t help but be a little fixated on Jean. In the years following, Jeremy found himself scanning the hallways at competitions, trying to catch a glimpse of the face he knew when a pack of Ravens would pass by. He stared at Jean through every performance, he tried to spot him in the stands, and he attempted to catch his eye whenever they happened to be in the cafeteria at the same time.

Jean, for his part, seemed completely unaware that Jeremy existed.

Any time Jeremy was able to catch a Raven’s performance, his eyes were glued to Jean through the whole show, silently rooting for him, his heart seizing up with each toss that left the other boy’s hands.

Jean was a sabre, and a tragically graceful one at that. Jeremy was sure that even without their strange meeting in the bathroom, his eyes would have been drawn to Jean every time. 

*

Jeremy, on the other hand, was a hopeless sabre. He didn’t care all too much though, he was a rifle through and through. He loved he strength it took, and he liked to think he was a pretty decent rifle. It was a good thing, too, because most other equipment involved much more dancing than his body was particularly happy with. Jeremy had a slight problem involving the control of his limbs.

He was suffering from this very impairment while running through the show one day. It was his third year with the Trojans and his second year as their captain, a fact that high school him would definitely have squealed about.

“Jeremy, watch your feet on that turn!” Debbie barked from the top of the bleachers. Jeremy wished he could yell back that his feel felt very pointed to him thank you very much. It was fine though, because the next moment, his rifle slammed into his hands with such a deliberate crack, he could tell even the staff was impressed.

Jeremy prided himself on clean catches.

He couldn’t help but watch it all unfold in his peripheral vision, searching for drops or mistakes he could correct after the run. He watched the flagline make their way across the floor, Lila leading the pack. He was momentarily giddy at how clean their angles were and nearly missed his turn-around count. Still, he released just in time, and caught just in time to watch Alverez turn cleanly under her toss and throw her hands out in a strong catch. He cheered silently to himself, but was interrupted by the sound of another rifle hitting the ground with the deafening thud. They would have to drill the hell out of the toss in weapon block next week.

The runthrough lasted entirely too long, and Jeremy was breathing heavily by the end. His stamina was way down after not spinning for months and they hadn’t even written the whole show yet. He had to start going on runs. The team slowly gathered around the staff. Jeremy clapped a few kid on the back as he went. The staff gave a few comments that generally brought down morale before opening the floor to Jeremy.

“Not too bad today, guys!” He chirped. “Rifles, that toss-turn is going to be the death of us if we don’t get more consistent. Flags have been looking lovely from what I can see. Keep it up. And Sabres, ask Lewis like usual, I have no clue how to tech you guys.” The Trojans laughed knowingly at that. “Overall, awesome job today! Love you guys.” He didn’t always end his speeches like this, but sometimes it just slipped out. It was true, after all. There were a few _Love you too, Jer_ ’s as he waved a hand to dismiss them. Jeremy made to follow them and help fold the floor, but Debbie grabbed his arm and led him away from the gym and into the director’s office with the rest of the staff.

“What’s going on?” Jeremy asked, gesturing to Debbie’s death-grip on his arm.

“You’ll see when he gets here.”

“When who gets here?”

Moments later, the office door swung back open and the staging designer entered the office with someone else in tow. Kevin Day met Jeremy’s eye briefly and gave him a nod.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Day?” Jeremy said, beaming at Kevin. Kevin forced a small smile back and they shook hands. Kevin Day was a former member of the Ravens (Rifle Line, Soloist three years in a row) when he broke his hand attempting a particularly tricky toss. The Ravens had disposed of Kevin right away, so Kevin joined the Foxes as staff as he recovered and was spinning for them before long. The Foxes were a little violent, a little messy, but Jeremy liked them, they had heart.  It was a wonderful story, Jeremy thought.

“Something’s happened.” Debbie said, solemnly in answer. Kevin just nodded in agreement. The Fox took a seat on the couch opposite Jeremy and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“I’ve got a favor.” Kevin said. Jeremy raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Look,” He began, as though he couldn’t be bothered to sugar-coat it. Jeremy appreciated that. “There’s this Raven I know. And he just quit.” Kevin paused and watched Jeremy’s face, waiting for the words to sink in. Ravens didn’t quit. They aged out or they got cut, but they never quit. “I know its mid-season, but I remember hearing about a sabre stop opening up here a few weeks ago and I wasn’t sure that you ever filled it.”

Jeremy nodded. They had been working around the hole, but nothing looked quite right with the odd number of Sabres. As a rule, the Trojans only gave mid-season spots to past members, but no one had wanted to fill the hole.

“I understand if you say no, but he’s good. Like, he’s really good.”

Jeremy knew exactly who they were talking about before Kevin said his name. He _knew_ it would be Jean, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach. “You’ll probably recognize his name, actually. His name is Jean Moreau.” Jeremy swore he felt the earth tip on its axis.

“Moreau is the one that quit?” He clarified, keeping his voice level. “That is,” He paused, searching for the right word. “Unexpected.” The world knew Jean Moreau by now, the same way everyone knew Kevin. He was infamous.

“There’s a pattern, it seems.”

“Why do you think that is?” Jeremy pondered, mostly to himself. Kevin, however, just sort of sulked at the ground with darkened eyes and Jeremy realized he had overstepped some kind of boundary. “I’m sorry.” He said quickly. “But we would love to have him, of course.”

Jeremy was acutely aware of the staff collectively raising their eyebrows. He kept his attention pointedly on Kevin.

“You have always been the kindest captain in WGI.” Kevin replied with a little laugh. Jeremy was a little bashful at that. “I want to warn you though, before you agree, the transition from the Ravens to anywhere else is really hard.” Kevin said. “It won’t be easy, for him or you. Renee didn’t want him playing at all, but when he suggested the Trojans she thought it was a good idea. You’d be good for him, and his talent won’t go to waste.” Jeremy’s mouth went dry at the idea of _Jean_ suggesting a transfer to the Trojans.

“I can handle it.” Jeremy said with a determined nod. “We can.” He amended, gesturing around at the staff, who he had all but forgotten about. Kevin nodded and stood. Debbie walked him out and they talked about some details. Jeremy sat frozen in his chair, mildly shocked, and lost in thought.

Jean Moreau would be spinning with the Trojans.

Jeremy would be spinning with Jean Moreau.

 


	2. Pizza & Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn't be a jerejean fic without Jeremy claiming Jean as a roommate now would it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your color guard encyclopedia returns:
> 
> Weapon tosses are named by number of rotations in the air. Ex: A 'sabre six' is in the air for six rotations before it's caught. Anything below four rotations is a bit different (a single, double, triple, and quad, respectively)  
> Lofty- describes a toss that rotates slower and higher in the air  
> Buzzy- describes a toss with tight and quick rotation

*  
JK

When Jeremy’s phone rang the next day, he was leaning over his desk, puzzling through a few math problems. He answered immediately, grateful for the distraction. He hated Calc.

“Debbie, hey.” He greeted, closing his math book.

“Knox, we have a problem.” Jeremy stood and wandered over to the window. “It’s about Moreau’s transfer. You were so quick to take him on, without even discussing the details with us. That’s not like you Jeremy.” She didn’t sound angry. Just a little disappointed, maybe curious.

“I know but I just…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words. “He just quit _the Ravens,_ Deb. You know how I feel about them, and what they do to their members. I just wanted to help him.”

“I understand that, Jeremy, but its mid-season _and_ mid-semester.” Debbie said.

“Yes, but I don’t see—”

“Jean Moreau lives states away in housing with the Ravens, Jeremy. He's been staying with the foxes since he left. He doesn’t have the money to get an apartment and he can’t very well apply for on-campus housing mid-semester.” Debbie explained. It finally clicked. Jean had nowhere to stay. Jeremy sometimes wished they had team housing, but who had the budget for that? The solution was obvious to Jeremy, as he stared at the empty bed and desk across the room.

“Moreau will stay with me.” Jeremy said, decidedly. “I have a double anyway.” The more he thought about it, the better an idea it was. Jeremy had never really wanted to live alone. He liked the idea of a roommate, someone always there to talk to. He had plenty of friends, but they were all already paired up and settled with rooming. He was no one's first pick was the thing. He knew he could be a little intense, he thought that some of his friends got tired of his constant energy. He decided to get a double near Laila and Alvarez and let his roommate be randomly assigned. Housing hadn’t paired him with anyone, though, so sometimes he got a little lonely.

Besides, it was his job as captain to make sure Jean was able to adjust. 

“He can’t pay Jeremy.”

“I get that. I don’t care.”

“Yes, but _he_ does. We offered to help, but he refused. He won’t even let his friends on the Foxes pitch in money.” Deb explained. That was a problem. He knew Raven's dues were somehow the least expensive in the class. They had some big name sponsors, that was for sure. The Trojans were reasonable, but much more costly than the Ravens. Jeremy wondered if he would even be able to pay his season fees. 

“Alright, well… tell him I’m on scholarship or something, that I don’t pay for it anyway, tell him its team housing, I don’t care. I want him spinning with us.” Jeremy knew he was acting irrationally but he couldn’t help it. He heard Debbie sigh.

“I’ll try my best, Jeremy.”

“Best director ever.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

*  
JM

Jean couldn’t even remember saying it. He must have been in some sort of state, maybe half-conscious, or drugged up on pain meds, because he would never have suggested it otherwise.

It was too late, though. Renee and Kevin _freaking_ Day had latched onto the idea of Jean spinning with the Trojans, and well, Jean really wanted to keep performing. He supposed it made sense, on the surface. The Trojans had an open sabre spot, and he was predominantly a sabre.

So that’s how he wound up in the passenger seat of a large van belonging to Debbie O’Brien, the most cheerful director in the entirety of WGI, Jean was convinced. The woman could not stop talking. Just five minutes into the ride, Jean was already wondering if he could bash his head in on the car window. The ride wasn’t long though, for which Jean was extremely grateful. Debbie pulled over and parked the car on the curb.

Jean unbuckled and exited the car in one swift movement. He stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the apartment building for a few moments before reaching into the van and grabbing his bag. Debbie was rounding the car, blabbing into the phone at someone when Jean resurfaced, duffel on his shoulder.

“Alright!” said Debbie, jabbing a button on her phone. “Jeremy is on his way down!” Jean just nodded shortly. He vaguely wished he could blend into the street, that way he wouldn’t have to go through with this. Jean suddenly really, really didn’t want to go through with this.

He couldn’t really breathe. He wondered if it was too late to call Renee and make her come pick him up.

His questions were answered when Jeremy Knox emerged from the apartment building looking like the personification of the sun. His smile was too wide, it was blinding. His hair was shiny and golden and seemed to rise and fall like ocean waved as he bounded down the front steps.

Jean was not a huge fan of the sun. He mostly found it annoying and unnecessary.

“Jean Moreau.” Jeremy said, and in the next moment Jean was standing stiff and uncomfortable in the Trojan’s embrace, his duffel falling to the ground with a thud. Jean had not prepared himself for this. He had expected a handshake, he had prepared for a handshake. Jean winced as Jeremy patted his back a few times before pulling away. “Welcome to the Trojans. We are so glad to have you.”

“Yes. Um. Thanks.” Jean managed, and somewhere inside him, he maybe even meant it. Jeremy just continued to beam at him, one hand in a friendly grip on his shoulder. Jean stared, unwavering, at the sidewalk. The three of them stood there in an odd sort of silence for a few moments. The awkwardness in the air was making it difficult for Jean to look at either one of them. Jean definitely wasn’t the kind of person that always knew what to say. More accurately, he never knew the right thing to say. 

“Alright, well! I had better be getting to my Zumba class.” Debbie announced, giving a quick wave to the boys. It seemed she wasn’t interested in sticking around to ease the tension. Jean wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or grateful. Moments later, Jeremy waved goodbye cheerfully at the retreating outline of Debbie’s van.

“Gotta love Debbie.” Jeremy said, good-naturedly. Jean wasn’t entirely sure he agreed with this sentiment, but that was neither here nor there. “Alright,” Jeremy clapped his hands together rather loudly. Jean hoped his flinch had gone undetected by the captain. “let’s get you upstairs!”

Jean nodded and reached down to scoop his bag back up. This did not pan out, as the duffel was no longer on the pavement, but already resting on Jeremy’s broad shoulder. Jean found this utterly ridiculous. He only had one bag.

“What,” was the only thing that came out of Jean’s mouth, but Jeremy seemed to get what he was saying anyway.

“I insist, it’s the least I can do.” Jeremy said, and well, that just wasn’t true, but Jeremy was already climbing the steps to the apartment, carting all of Jean’s belongings along with him. So, Jean followed. Once inside, the duo climbed another set of stairs before setting off down a long hallway. The building was fairly clean, which was good, Jean guessed. It was alright, but it was obvious it was student housing. The building resided just on the outskirts of Jeremy’s campus.

Jean knew that things would be different with the Trojans. If everyone operated like the Ravens, they wouldn't be the best. It was just, Jean couldn't understand how the Trojan's setup could possibly work. It was in the Raven’s contract. If you spun with them you attended Edgar Allen University. If you weren’t college age, you got private lessons until you could earn a diploma, and you lived right near campus. The Trojans, on the other hand, were scattered all around the state. Apparently, only a handful of the guard went to USC. The rest were scattered around the area at other schools. Jean thought it seemed inefficient. 

Jean was still lost in thought when one of the apartment doors swung open with a loud bang. This time he was sure both Jeremy and the newcomer noticed him jump. She was fairly short with dark skin and hair. She wore a wolfish grin and it was aimed right at Jean.

“Well if it isn’t our new sabre!” She sounded upbeat, but there was something in her tone that threw Jean off. He was on the defensive almost immediately. “Isn’t he somethin’?” She asked lightly, appraising him. Jean didn't speak, but leveled the girls' stare.

“Yeah, Alv, this is Jean. Jean, Alvarez.” Jeremy said, gesturing between the two. He was either oblivious to the combative interaction or chose to ignore it. If Jean were to guess, he'd say the former. “Alv, are you ever not spying on me out your window?” Jeremy added, shaking his head. 

“When you’re not doing something interesting.” Alverez answered with a shrug. She turned her gaze back on Jean. “Nice clothes.” It was a dig. Jean realized and so did Alverez. Jean stiffened immediately and drew his arms in around himself, glancing down at his jet black jeans and matching shirt. 

Jeremy moved to sort of step halfway between Jean and Alverez, probably sensing Jean’s discomfort. Jean had to stop being such an open book. He felt his face flush and was happy that neither Jeremy nor Alverez were looking at him anymore. Jeremy hadn’t said anything, but Alverez’s smile had dropped off of her face. “Is Laila in?” Jeremy asked a beat later, sounding rather hopeful.

“Nah, she’s shopping for dinner.”

“Alright, well we’re going to go get Jean settled then. See you Friday.” Jeremy gave her a brilliant smile before continuing down the hall, waving for Jean to follow.

That was another difference, so odd it was almost laughable. The Trojans only rehearsed on weekends. They had 3 practices a week: Friday nights, Saturday mornings before shows, and all day Sundays. The Trojans had the entire work week off. Jean wasn’t sure what he would do with himself now that he wouldn’t have rehearsals every day. What did Jeremy even do during the week?

“I’m sorry about all that.” Jeremy said, stopping to fish his keys out of his back pocket. Jean almost bumper right into him, too absorbed in thought to realized Jeremy had stopped. “Alverez can be a little intense. She means well.” He had to jimmy the doorknob to get the key to slide all the way in. Jean wasn’t sure if he was expected to answer. He had nothing to say, so he just kept quiet. Jeremy looked back at him quizzically as he finally pushed open the apartment door, only turning away to step inside.

“It’s not much,” He said, gesturing around at the space. “But I’ve tried my best to make it a little homey.” Jean wasn’t exactly sure what ‘homey’ was supposed to look like, but he figured Jeremy had probably succeeded. There were warm red curtains hung in the window and a few throw pillows on the couch that seemed to be made from old Trojan t-shirts.

Jeremy pointed out each section as they walked. “Here’s the living space,” He pointed to the area with the couch and tv. It was adorned with movie, and interestingly, old  _Cosmos_  posters. “This is the kitchen,” Jeremy said as they continued into the apartment. This probably did not need saying. Jean wondered if Jeremy had made coffee minutes before his arrival or if the room just permanently smelled that way. “The bathroom is over there,” Jeremy gestured to a half-closed doorway. “Aaaaand here is the bedroom.” Jeremy threw the door open and held out his arms out as if presenting the room to Jean.

Jeremy’s side looked worn and lived in. There were framed photos on is desk next to a mess of textbooks. The walls were covered in photos and... Broadway Playbills? It looked as though he had recently tried to clean, but had really just moved some of his belongings around and stuffed all of his laundry in the hamper. It also looked as though the USC mascot had thrown up all over the room, there was so much Trojan red. The other side, Jean’s, was mostly empty. Just a desk, a closet, and a bed. To Jean’s surprise, the bed was made up with golden colored sheets and some sort of quilt, folded at the foot.

“I wasn’t sure whether you would have brought bedding with you, so I just made it up with my extra set!”

“You didn’t- you shouldn’t-” Jean just really didn’t know how to react to all of this. It was just _so_ not what he was expecting, all of it, _Jeremy_. The Trojan waited, maybe to see if Jean would say anything more. When he didn’t, Jeremy just waved him off.

“It’s not a problem, really. Plus, now we’ve really got Trojan pride going on. Look, I’ve got the red, you’ve got the gold!” He pulled his own comforter back in demonstration. Jean was quite honestly speechless. There was no way this boy existed in real life. Jean couldn't help but look at him, sort of puzzled while he tried to figure him out. “Oh, right!” Jeremy said, suddenly, as if he had forgotten something, misinterpreting Jean's stare. “Here’s your bag, duh.” He placed it on Jean’s bed. “You go ahead and unpack. I’m just going to sit here and try to get through this freaking Calc homework.”

*  
JK

Jeremy was never going to finish his Calc work. He sat cross-legged on his bed, textbook cradled in his lap, and pencil in hand, but he couldn’t focus on anything besides Jean’s movements around the room. He figured it was due to years of being so honed in on him at competitions.

Jean hadn’t spoken much, since he arrived. Jeremy had counted eight words. It was driving him crazy. Jeremy liked talking. He liked talking a lot. He was good at it! Jeremy normally knew exactly how to get people to open up, but it just wasn't working on Jean. Jeremy couldn't just keep talking for fear of overwhelming him. So Jeremy bit his lip to keep from speaking and shoved his nose into his textbook.

He _tried_ to stop glancing up at Jean through his lashes, he really did.

Jeremy gave up all pretense as Jean began intently unpacking his clothes. He lifted his head and watched as the other boy lifted his meticulously folded clothes. Jean was unpacking black shirt after black shirt, and something about the sight made Jeremy's stomach twist uncomfortably. It was something about the way Jean had reacted to Alverez earlier, the way he had reacted to that dumb joke about his clothes.

Jeremy had thought Jean’s outfit had just been a coincidence, had hoped it was mere happenstance. But Jean was done unpacking and it was clear that everything the boy owned was Raven black. Sure, Jeremy knew the Ravens wore all black when they were at competitions, but he’d always assumed that was the extent of it. They couldn’t make the team wear only black outside of guard, could they? Part of him wanted to call Kevin and ask. 

Jeremy looked quickly back at his lap as Jean turned around and set the empty bag at the edge of his bed. Jeremy really was glad he had thought to do up the bed. Jean hadn’t brought much with him at all.

The plan had been to take Jean out to dinner with some of the team, but that wasn’t seeming like such a great idea at the present moment. It didn’t help that Alverez had been so abrasive earlier. He had hoped Laila would appear to smooth out the edges, but she’d been out.

“So, I don’t know if you have plans for tonight, but I thought we could get dinner.” Jeremy said, keeping his tone light and casual. Jean leaned back on one of the bed posts and nodded slowly. Jeremy soldiered on. “Okay, cool. So, I think some of the team are going to Applebee’s later.” Jeremy watched Jean’s face carefully as he said it, and he could see the muscles there tighten. Jean swallowed thickly but continued his expressionless nodding. He was trying his best, but it was obvious to Jeremy that he did not want to go. “Or,” Jeremy said quickly. “If you're tired from the trip, so we could just order food? Maybe watch some old Trojan shows, get you introduced to the technique?”

Jean’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Yes, um. I am a bit tired.”

“Okay, great.” Jeremy smiled (Jean had just doubled his word count), but Jean didn’t look at him. He grabbed his phone to text the group and let them know he and Jean wouldn’t be at dinner and to call for takeout. “Pizza sound good?” He asked. Jeremy just nodded. “What do you like on it?”

“Um, anything. Whatever you like is fine.” Jean shrugged.

"Anchovies? Broccoli?" He suggested, hoping for a laugh. No one liked those. Jean just sort of glared at the floor like it had personally offended him.

"Don't care." Jean said, the syllables short and clipped. 

“No way!” Jeremy argued, playfully. “Everyone had a pizza preference! C’mon.” Jean said nothing and maybe turned a bit pink. The poor carpet was going to catch fire under the heat of Jean's gaze. Jeremy made a show of acting exasperated. “Seriously, Moreau, c’mon! It’s pizza toppings, not a deep dark secret. If we don’t like the same thing, we’ll just get half and ha—”

“Knox,” The use of his name from Jean’s mouth silenced Jeremy instantly. “I don’t care.” The words were sharp and Jeremy took a step backwards. He had obviously done something wrong, but he didn't have the slightest idea what it might have been. He blinked up at Jean, wondering if he would say anything else. Jean, of course, just grabbed his towel and muttered something intelligible about a shower and the plane ride.

Jeremy was left to order the pie and worry that he was already screwing this whole thing up.

The delivery came before Jean was out of the bathroom, so Jeremy set it on the coffee table along with plates, cups, and napkins. Then he set his laptop up, opening a bunch of Trojan shows from previous years. He hoped Jean was still up for watching old shows. He had actually seemed a bit excited about it. That, or he was just really relieved to not have to go out with the team. Come to think of it it was probably the second one.

Jean exited the bathroom in sweatpants and a black sweatshirt. (Jeremy momentarily thought the sweatpants might be dark gray, but as Jean grew closer, it was evident they were just faded by the wash.) His hair was wet and sticking up in a funny way and Jeremy wished he could poke fun at it or, oddly, reach out and smooth it down. Jeremy shook the thought from his head, cringing at himself. Jean wandered wordlessly over to where Jeremy sat on the couch. Something in his posture was laced with tension.

“Look, Jean. I’m sorry if I said something earlier, I—”

“Arrête... stop, no." He stammered, seemingly to the ground. The french startled Jeremy enough to stop him from speaking. Jean glowered at Jeremy for a few seconds, and Jeremy felt squirmy under his gaze. "I am." He said. "Sorry, I mean.”

“Oh.” That was a surprise. Jeremy sat up straighter and shot Jean a smile. “Okay. Don’t um, don’t be afraid to tell me though, if I’m making you feel uncomfortable.” Jeremy said, and this whole direction of conversation seemed to be doing just that, so he quickly turned the subject around. “Alright,” He patted the couch for Jean to sit. “Let’s talk technique.”

It seemed that color guard was the way to get Jean talking. He devoured his pizza and leaned over the computer screen, watching intently while Jeremy pointed certain things out. 

“Hm, étrange,” Jean said in response to what Jeremy considered to be a particularly nice sabre six. Jeremy didn't know French, but he thought it sounded negative. Although, coming from Jean's lips, anything could sound negative. “You’re tosses are much loftier than ours.” Jean observed. Jeremy wanted to correct Jean, to remind him he wasn't a Raven anymore, but he supposed the change would take some getting used to. Mostly he was just happy Jean had strung that many words together in one breath.

“Yeah, that’s going to be a major adjustment for you. Raven technique is super buzzy. You’re gonna have to loosen up your tosses. It’s always especially noticeable on—”

“On sabre, yeah.” Jean finished for him. He was leaned over watching the screen with furrowed brows, chin in his hand. Jeremy bit back a smile.

“Your show design is good.” Jean announced, sitting back a bit. “I hadn’t seen any of these before.” Jeremy was taken aback the compliment, but even more so by Jean's admission to have never see a Trojan show. He turned his gaze to Jean.

“You mean you never watched us at regionals or anything?” Jeremy asked, tilting his head a bit.

“Not really. We almost always performed last and," He paused, as if debating whether or not to continue. Jeremy turned to him in interest, urging him on. "We weren’t allowed to be in the gym before we went on.” He finished.

“What? That’s insane! Watching shows is my favorite part! You never snuck in anyway?” Jeremy asked, conspiratorially. Jean just shrugged.

“They were the rules for a reason. They didn’t want us distracted, or comparing ourselves.” Jean explained. Jeremy realized with a start that conversation was actually beginning to flow normally. He reached out and played the next show and the previous one ended, and began explaining the concept as the tiny Trojans on the screen set up their equipment.

“This was my first year here.” Jeremy said, watching himself fist-bump a few of his teammates before falling into his opening pose. Jean hummed. He seemed to want to say something, but he hesitated, opening his mouth a few times before actually speaking. Jeremy looked at him expectantly.

“Which one are you?” Jean asked, avoiding Jeremy's stare.

“Oh man." Jeremy said. "Alright, keep in mind, this was three years ago. I was still a child, really.” Jeremy reluctantly pointed himself out on the screen. Jean nodded and Jeremy thought he saw something like a smile on his lips. Jeremy zoned out a bit, staring a little at the twitchy corners of Jean's mouth, wishing he would just give in and really smile. Jean had watched the show a million times. He probably could have done it in his sleep. Except for maybe that ensemble dance, Jeremy had always had a bit of a problem with that one leap and— was Jean _giggling_?

Jeremy snapped out of it and refocused on Jean, who was, indeed smirking. Jeremy turned to the screen again searched for what could possibly have been funny enough to make Jean laugh. Whatever it was, he planned to do it again and again. Then he saw it. “Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I _forgot_ that was this show. I—” Jeremy hid his eyes in his hands, unable to watch.

“You’re so lost.” Jean said, amused. And Jeremy might have been a little annoyed if he could even deny how bad that performance really was. (And if Jean's eyes weren't sparkling like that.)

“It gets worse," Jeremy whined. "Oh my—”

Jean could not hold it together by the time freshman Jeremy fell out of his leap and onto the ground. Jeremy watched through his fingers as the most embarrassing show of his life played out on the screen. Of all the videos online from that year, he just had to click on that one. But then, Jean was shaking with laughter, his face turning red with it, and Jeremy decided that it was actually totally worth it.

“I hope you’re a better spinner than you are dancer.” Jean said, but it was gentle, like teasing. Jeremy, giddy from Jean’s reaction, didn’t want it to stop.

“You think that’s bad, you should see some of my high school shows.” And so their studying was all but forgotten as Jeremy completely embarrassed himself and essentially let Jean watch twenty collective minutes of Jeremy flailing around on the screen in hideous uniforms. None of it mattered, though. Jean’s shoulders were relaxed and his expression was unguarded as he watched and Jeremy would have done this for hours.

Eventually Jeremy grew tired. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, sleepily.

“I should go to bed. I’ve got class at nine.” Jeremy said, regretfully. He’d been having so much fun. Jean nodded and helped clean off the coffee table. Jeremy had eaten an entire half of the pizza, but Jean had only eaten about a piece and a half. (He knew Jean must have had an opinion) So Jeremy wrapped up the extra slices. When Jeremy retreated to the bedroom, Jean followed and they both got ready for bed.  

Jeremy hovered by the light switch, wondering if he should ask Jean before turning it off. He looked over to find Jean sitting on his bed, running his hands over the quilt and staring blankly towards the opposite wall. Jeremy must have been staring for too long because Jean spoke after a bit.

“I’m fine with it off.” He said, somehow reading Jeremy’s thoughts. Jeremy nodded and flipped the switch.

“Door?” He asked.

“Closed.” Jean said. “If you don’t mind.” He added quickly, a moment later. Jeremy closed the door softly and made his was over to his bed, blindly. He climbed into bed and heard sounds which indicated Jean was doing the same. Jeremy rolled over and muttered a hushed “ouch” when his back collided with the corner of his textbook.

“Stupid Calc.” He said, shoving the book out of his bed and onto the floor. He thought maybe Jean breathed out a laugh. Then it was silent for a while, although Jeremy could tell Jean wasn’t asleep whenever he shifted a bit, rustling the sheets. Jeremy found himself unable to turn his brain off. When he thought Jean was asleep, he turned over to look at him. Through the darkness, he could only see the soft rise and fall of his chest.

“Jeremy,” Jean said. It was the first time Jean had ever used his first name, and Jeremy was oddly breathless at the way the accent softened its syllables.

“Hmm?” Jeremy prompted, thinking he’d been caught staring. But Jean seemed to be lying flat on his back and looking straight up at the ceiling.

“I… about the pizza.” Jean began. Jeremy thought they had gotten past the pizza issue. He was about to open his mouth to say so, but Jean kept talking. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just- we don’t… I wouldn’t know what kind of pizza topping to ask for. It wasn’t allowed in our diet. I can’t even remember ever eating it…”

Jean actually sounded _ashamed_. How long had Jean been with the Ravens that he couldn’t remember pizza? Jeremy wanted to… well for some reason he felt the urge to crawl into Jean’s bed and cuddle him, but he didn’t think Jean would like that very much.

“Oh,” Jeremy said. “Well, that’s okay. No big deal.” It seemed important to say that, although, somehow, Jeremy did kind of feel like it was a big deal. “But there’s definitely no pizza ban here. We’ll figure out your favorite toppings in no time.” Jeremy hoped he sounded reassuring. It was more important to him than ever that Jean was happy. Jean so deserved to be happy. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.” Jeremy added, and it was a promise for much more than pizza. Jeremy could only hope it had come across that way. It had been less than a day, but Jeremy would have promised Jean the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don't remember who made that post about Jeremy loving musicals but it is my lifeblood so I had to make Jeremy a Broadway Hoe™
> 
> Additionally, I know exactly no french so it's possible that none of it is right I'm relying on google here
> 
> And finally, I will leave you with my askbox (@ballerinalouis.tumblr.com) in case ya wanna come shout at me or something


	3. Pineapple & Pepperoni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is literally just a whole lot of angst im sorry i can't help myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I used any new color guard lingo in this chapter, but I could be wrong.
> 
> But, trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> -panic attack  
> -pretty detailed character anxiety

*  
JM

When Jean awoke the next morning, Jeremy was already off at class.

Jean should have been relieved. He just didn’t know how to deal with Jeremy. Jean liked to be careful around new people. It normally took time for Jean to warm up to people, yet Jeremy walks in and suddenly he’s spouting heartfelt confessions in the dark?

He was overreacting, he knew. It was just pizza. Except, it wasn’t. Part of him had always known that the Raven’s diet was extreme. That didn’t mean he wanted the Trojans finding out just how intense it really was. Jeremy, specifically, seemed the type to make a big deal about it and Jean just did not want to put up with that.

So, yes should have been relieved. Mostly though, he was panicky.

It was only after realizing he had been lest to his own devices that it hit him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been alone. Sure, for brief moments he had been in a separate room from someone else, but _this_ was something else.

Jean took a few deep breaths like Renee had taught him before getting out of bed. Jeremy would be back after class. Jean tried to remember what time he said that would be, but he couldn’t recall the exact words from the night before.

Jean wandered out of the bedroom. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He wanted desperately for someone, anyone, to be there in the kitchen, but there was only ghostlike quiet and yellow sunlight pouring through the window.

His hands were shaking as he reached out for the note at the table, and for a moment the words grounded him.

_Jean,_

_In class until noon. Have a good morning! I will see you later._

_-Jeremy_

At least he had a time now, Jean figured. Jeremy would be back by noon and everything would be fine again. Until the next day, when Jeremy had class for who knows how long. Jean shoved that thought away and set the note back down on the table. As he did it he noticed more writing scribbled on the back.

It was step-by-step instructions on how to use the, apparently very finicky, coffee maker. It was evident long before this that Jeremy Knox was an absolute dork, but this solidified it for Jean. He would have rolled his eyes if he didn’t feel so unsteady and vaguely horrible. He felt a little bit like he might throw up and even as he followed the steps to make the coffee he was constantly aware of how very alone he was.

He knew it was irrational. It didn’t matter.

He took more deep breaths. He sat down with his coffee. It tasted horrible. Two hours until Jeremy’s return. He could do that.

He let his coffee go cold. That only took seven minutes. He tried to drink it anyway. It was honestly the most wretched coffee ever made.

Why did people do this? Sure it was different that the Ravens were around another person at all times. Other people didn’t get it, but it was better than this. It was better than sitting with nothing and no one, the possibility of something going wrong at any second, with no one there to ever know.

He was fine. Jeremy would be back in one hour and forty-five minutes.

He tried to watch TV, but the sound of it made him jumpy. He had thought game shows would be safe but there was this loud buzzer noise every time someone answered a question wrong and god these people were all so _stupid_ why couldn’t they just get the questions right and spare him from jumping out of his skin?

He turned off the TV. One hour and seventeen minutes.

He stared at Jeremy’s equipment in the corner. Spinning would ease his mind, but there was nowhere to do it. He wouldn’t know where to go. He hated spinning Rifle, anyway, and that was all Jeremy had in the apartment. He walked over and ran his hands over its rough edges, the tape job was uneven and peeling. He couldn’t wait to get his hands back on a sabre. He missed the cold, smooth feel of it, heavy in his hand.

He was momentarily lost in the feeling of solid catches, and Raven black, and someone always at his side.

And how did people live like this? Jeremy had lived alone before Jean got here. Constantly alone. Jean would always be alone.

How could he have left? He must be crazy, he must be insane to have left the Ravens. Edgar Allen was safe. It was all he knew, all he ever really wanted to know. Why would he leave? What was he thinking?

Who was he now? Without them? Who was he when he wasn’t a Raven?

He thought of going back to sleep. He thought of packing his things back up and leaving. He didn’t do either. Instead he cursed the Trojans and checked the time.

Eleven-Ten.

How could the Trojans call themselves a team? The Ravens were a unit a singular force. The Trojans were scattered, and that’s why they would never compare. He would never be the spinner he was before. He would never be the best again. He would never be the same again, he would never breath the same again.

He went into the bedroom and stared at his duffel. He could just leave. They might take him back. He could just go. He grabbed for the bag hastily but slowed when something fell out and onto the wooden floor of the bedroom.

They were his black fingerless gloves. His Raven gloves. Almost every other color guard in the world used nude gloves, but the Raven’s used black, of course.

Jean just stared at them, where they sat on the ground and he regained just a ghost of his senses. He had kept them as a reminder, not just of his triumphs but of everything else. He had experienced so much pain wearing those gloves, he’d seen so many things, dealt with so many atrocious people. He scrambled to pick up one of the gloves from the ground and he stared at it in horror.

Everything about them was familiar, the elastic, the worn padding, and the sound of the Velcro pulling open.

The glove was so old. It didn’t even take much effort for Jean to tear it apart. There was a sick tear as he forced the seams apart, but it only fueled him. He did it again, tearing, again and again, desperately until he was surrounded by tiny pieces of black fabric.

Jean couldn’t remember when he started to cry. He felt simultaneously relieved and weak as he felt himself breaking down. The tears were hot and foreign against his cheeks and his whole body was shaking now.

He knew he was just teetering on falling off the edge and he desperately didn’t want it to happen. So, he cried and tried to remember how Renee taught him to breathe. He finally seemed to have his lungs back under his own control when he glanced up and saw the clock.

It was glowing green and it read 12:23.

*  
JK

Jeremy walked with a bounce in his step as he rounded the street corner and spotted the storefront he was headed for.

He had come up with the brilliant plan while zoning out in Calc and he got more excited about it with every passing second. He had told Laila all about it (and all about Jean for that matter) in between classes and she agreed that it was a good idea.

She also said she was really excited to meet him, which Jeremy was slightly worried about. Then again, Jean had already met Alvarez, just bringing him over to their apartment for a few minutes couldn’t be too bad. Jeremy had never witnessed anyone not take an immediate liking to Laila, including Alverez who at her worst could be just as grumpy as Jean.

Maybe tonight they would pay them a visit.

But right now Jeremy was on a mission.

It was something like a sixty-dollar mission. Jeremy certainly did not dwell on the implications of his willingness to drop that much money on someone he had only really met yesterday. It was just such a great idea. Amazing, if Jeremy said so himself.

Jeremy’s phone rang, chirping through his eager thoughts. It was Alvarez.

“Hello?” He said. Jeremy had stuck with the greeting even after the days of caller id. It was just polite. Alverez was not similarly rooted in these traditions.

“Laila told me about your little plan.” She said, as if she had caught him doing something wrong. Jeremy stopped in his tracks at the suggestion, disrupting the flow of traffic a bit.

“Hey! It’s a great pl—Oh, sorry ma’am. So sorry! Excuse me.” He weaved through a few passersby and leaned up on the nearest storefront.  “Sorry, Alv. Anyway, it’s a great plan!” He said, on the defense. He couldn’t see one possible flaw. _Anyone_ would be happy to be surprised like this, but Jean should especially appreciate it. He was going to win Jean over in a heartbeat and then everything would be—“Wait, what did you just say?”

“I asked you how long you’ve had a crush on Moreau.” Alverez repeated. And that’s what he’d thought she said, but he assumed that couldn’t be right.

“What are you talking about?” Jeremy asked with a laugh. “I just met him yesterday.”

“Did you, though?”

“Yes? I don’t really understand why I would lie abo—”

“Laila has a theory that you knew each other before.” Alvarez interrupted. Jeremy would hardly say they’d known each other. Actually, he wouldn’t say that at all. Jeremy know _of_ Jean, sure, but who didn’t? The thing in the bathroom happened forever ago, anyway.

“Laila has a theory about a lot of things.” Jeremy countered. It was true. Laila loved conspiracy theories.

“A lot of the time she’s right.” That was also true.

“I don’t have time for this.” Jeremy said. “I have to go I’m—”

“Planning a grand gesture for some boy you just met?”

“Yes!” Jeremy said. It wasn’t that weird. _It wasn’t._ He thought of hanging up right then to make a point, but his manners got the better of him. “I’ll see you later.” The words were supposed to sound angry but they came out kind of cheerful. Jeremy was awful at being mad.

It was just, Jeremy did things like this all the time. It was who he was! He was the king of surprise parties and amazing at picking out gifts that people would love. He liked to make people feel good! It wasn’t weird.

Jeremy finally got to the shop and got what he needed. He stepped back out onto the sidewalk with an armful and made for the apartment.

Of course Alverez was peering out the window as Jeremy approached their building. When she saw him, she called something over her shoulder. Moments later, Jeremy heard the opening lines of ‘In Your Eyes’ from _Say Anything_ blasting from their window, accompanied by Alv’s manic cackling.

Jeremy needed new friends.

He took the elevator up so he didn’t have to pass their door. (And because his stamina was running a bit low from the extra weight in his arms. He _still_ hadn’t started going on runs.) It took some major maneuvering to get the door unlocked while still holding Jean’s surprise, but he managed somehow. He finally got the door open and struggled before finally setting the armful down on the table.

He wandered through the apartment and figured Jean was in the bedroom when he saw the bathroom door was opened. The door was left open a crack, but Jeremy opened it slowly and quietly in case Jean was sleeping.

Jean was not sleeping.

Jean was huddled on the ground under the window. His knees were pulled into his chest and his hands were gripping desperately at his calves. He hadn’t looked up as Jeremy entered, but continued staring blankly across the room at the place where the floor met the wall. His chest was rising and falling at an alarming rate and as Jeremy inched closer he could see that Jean was shaking. He had something clutched tightly in one hand, and Jeremy realized with a start that it was the note he left Jean that morning.  

Jeremy didn’t know what to do. He tried to remember anything he had ever read about anxiety attacks but his mind was maddeningly blank. He let instinct take over and crossed the room. When he got to where Jean was he knelt down and put himself in Jean’s line of sight. It seemed to work and Jean’s eyes snapped up to his. Jeremy held his gaze as he spoke.

“Jean, hey, Jean.” Jeremy kept his voice soft and reassuring. “It’s me, Jean. Hey.” Jeremy reached out to put his hands on top of Jean’s but stopped halfway. “Jean, can I touch you?” Jean didn’t answer, so Jeremy just stayed still, his hands hovering over Jean’s. “What do you need Jean? I want to help you.”

Jean was still shaking and he looked _scared_ and Jeremy wasn’t used to seeing any emotion on Jean’s face, but it was like he was cracked open. This was the Jean from the bathroom five years ago.

“Shit. I don’t know- I don’t-” Jeremy sputtered for a moment. Something in Jean gave just an inch and he dropped his head so that his forehead was resting against Jeremy’s. Jeremy hadn’t even realized they were that close, but now that they were touching he figured it would be okay to cover Jean’s hands with his own. Jean’s hands were still shaking and sweaty under Jeremy’s palms.

“Um, hey, okay I think. Let’s just breathe. Breathe like you’re in a show, Jean. You can’t finish a show when you’re not breathing evenly, can you? Breathe like you’re in a show.”

And miraculously, Jean’s breathing did slow. Jeremy breathed with him for a bit and soon he could barely feel the shaking any more. When Jean’s head lifted and fell back to lean against the wall instead of Jeremy, he pulled his hands away and moved out of Jean’s space a bit. Jean opened his palms and the note fell onto the floor, crumpled into a ball. Jean stared at it as though he’d forgotten he was holding it.

Jeremy felt the tension is his chest finally give a bit.

“Jean, can I get you anything?” Jeremy asked. It was quiet for a moment and he wasn’t sure if Jean was going to answer.

“Water?” Jean asked, finally, it the smallest voice Jeremy had ever heard.

“Of course, yeah.”

Jean went to grab a cup of water as quickly as he could, but by the time he got back, Jean had moved from the floor to his bed. He sat with his legs crossed at the ankles and his back against the headboard. He doing something on his phone, which looked to be from the year two thousand. If it weren’t for the general puffiness of Jean’s face, Jeremy would have wondered if anything from before had even really happened.

Jeremy walked carefully over to Jean and handed him the water. Jean looked up from the phone, took the water, and muttered a curt “thank you.”

Unsure of what to do next, Jeremy backed up and leaned against his own bed, trying (and failing) not to watch Jean intently. Jean drank the water as though he hadn’t had any in weeks. Jeremy was going back and forth in his head, debating whether it was wise to bring up what had just happened.

Then Jeremy remembered the surprise he had left abandoned on the table.

“Hey, are you hungry? We could eat some lunch! I actually—”

“No,” Jean said, cutting him off. “Not hungry. Was actually just going to nap.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Sure.” Jeremy knew he sounded as disappointed as he felt, but Jean gave no sign he noticed. “I’ll just be out in the living room, if you need me.” Jean nodded and Jeremy grabbed he phone and exited the room, closing the door softly.

It was slightly agonizing to let Jean out of his sight. Jeremy couldn’t help but worry. He retreated to the couch and scrolled through his phone until he found the contact he was looking for.

“Hello?”

“Kevin. Hey, it’s Jeremy.”

“Oh! Yeah, hey. What’s up, you need something?”

“Kind of.” He said into the phone, speaking relatively quietly so as not to wake Jean. “I just, I have a couple questions? It’s Jean.” Kevin hummed as though this was just what he had been expecting. This did not make Jeremy feel any better. Then Kevin murmured something and Jeremy could general rustling and the open and close of a door.

“Alright.” Kevin said. “Jeremy, you’re on speaker. It’s just me and Renee.”

Jeremy was relieved. Renee, the Fox that had become friends with Jean while he was between the Ravens and the Trojans. She would surely know what to do.

“Alright. Hi Renee, it’s good to meet you.” He greeted, friendly as ever.

“Hello Jeremy,” She had a kind voice. “Same to you.”

“Right, so it’s Jean. He, um. Well I went to class this morning, and when I came back he was kind of… well I think he was having a panic attack? Maybe anxiety? I’m not sure I know the difference?”

Jeremy heard Kevin curse softly.

“It was while you were gone? You came back in the middle of it?” Renee clarified.

“Yeah.” Jeremy said, dumbly, wishing he could be of more help. Kevin jumped in before long.

“Okay, I was dumb to think this wouldn’t happen. You’ve seen how the Ravens travel in pairs right? Or packs? Seen how they’re never alone?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy repeated. “At shows. It’s like an intimidation thing, right?”

“Well it— it runs a little deeper than that.” Kevin said. “When you’re with the Ravens, you’re sort of paired with someone. And it’s like… that person never leaves your side. When I left I had trouble being alone. Jean probably does too. You develop a sort of codependence.”

Jeremy listened, his eyes growing wider with every word, his brows simultaneously pulling down in repulsion. The Ravens were even sicker than he thought. Jean couldn’t stand being left alone. That made sense. And when Jeremy didn’t get back right at the time he said he would. _Oh no_. He felt his stomach turn over. Why hadn’t they told him?

As if reading his mind, Renee’s melodic tones arose in answer.

“We didn’t think Jean was suffering the same way Kevin had. He didn’t like… to even be left alone in a room. Jean didn’t seem to have that problem. We thought he was dealing with it differently.” She explained, softly. “We would have told you if we thought it was going to be a problem. But, remember Jean’s story is his to tell.”

Jeremy understood, of course. Jean was his own person, and Renee wouldn’t betray his trust by telling Jeremy anything Jean wouldn’t want him to know.

“He’ll trust you in time.” Renee’s sage voice had helped to calm him, and Jeremy understood why Jean had taken such a liking to her.

“Okay, thank you.” He said, genuine gratitude evident in his voice.

“Of course.” Renee said. “And,” she added as an afterthought. “Tell Jean to text me, would you?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Alright, take care Jeremy.”

“Same to you, Renee. Bye Kevin.”

The phone went dead. Jeremy pulled it down from his ear, took a deep breath, and pulled up a google search.

*  
JM

Jean woke to the smell of something cooking and sound of deep singing. His stomach growled. Looking around, Jean found that it was already dark outside. The clock read 5:30, and he hadn’t eaten all day.

It wasn’t until Jean swung his feet over the side of the bed that he remembered. The panic attack. Jeremy coming home to find Jean on the bedroom floor. The memories came rushing back, making Jean cringe. He felt his face turn hot even though there was no one in the room with him.

The pieces of his torn up glove were still scattered all over the floor. He picked them up and disposed of them in the trash can. Then he retrieved the other, still in-tact, glove from its place on the floor and tucked it neatly under his pillow.

His stomach kept reminding him that he couldn’t hide away forever, so he straightened his back and walked out of the bedroom.

Jeremy’s face all but lit up when he spotted Jean. He could tell Jeremy was trying not to make a big deal of it though. The Trojan was pulling a pizza out of the oven as he smiled at Jean.

“Pizza again?” Jean asked. “Mon dieu, is this all you eat?”

Jeremy grinned as if Jean had told a joke. Then Jean saw the seven pizza boxes stacked up on the table. Jeremy kicked the oven closed with his foot and rushed to get this pizza in its box.

“What,”

“Yeah I, um. I actually got them for lunch. That’s why I was late.” He looked somewhat sheepish. “There’s a bunch of toppings. I reheated them, so they won’t be _as_ good, but…” Jeremy trailed off and Jean was somewhat speechless. Was Jeremy even an actual person? How did someone so much like sunshine even function in the real world?

Jean’s stomach grumbled loudly and Jeremy _grinned_.

Jean walked over to the table and opened the nearest box. This one was topped with mushrooms. Jean pulled one slice free and took a bite. Jeremy seemed to be waiting for a reaction. Jean thought it was pretty good, so he sat and took another bite.

Jeremy looked appeased. He sat opposite to Jean at the table and searched through a few of the boxes until he found the pepperoni. They munched on their slices for a bit in quiet.

“Don’t feel pressured to eat the whole thing, you know.” Jeremy said after a bit. “There’s _lots_ of toppings here and I won’t rest until you’ve tried every one.”

Jean just shrugged noncommittally and took another bite of mushroom. Jeremy rolled his eyes, opened the pepperoni box, and placed a slice on his plate. Jean glared at him. Jeremy just stared back angelically. Jean huffed, but exchanged his first slice for the pepperoni. It went on like this for the better part of the evening, Jeremy only letting Jean take a few bites of a slice before producing some new kind of pizza for Jean to try.

In the end, Jean was particularly fond of the pie with bits of ham and pineapple on top. Jeremy seemed to notice this somehow because he let Jean eat the entire slice. When Jean finished his last bite of the crust, he looked up to find Jeremy smiling at him rather sincerely. Jean felt a bit fidgety under the warmth of his stare.

“Quelle?” Jean demanded. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just, Hawaiian’s a sweeter choice than I’d have guessed, for someone so determined to seem indifferent.” Jeremy said through his smile.

Jean blinked. He wasn’t sure how to take this remark. It had seemed like teasing. Jeremy was even more unsure of how one was meant to react to teasing. Either way, it was ridiculous to guess someone Pizza preferences based on their personality, Jean thought.

So he scoffed and picked up another piece of the pineapple, pointedly. Infuriatingly, Jeremy just giggled. To his own horror, Jean began to laugh as well, through no choice of his own. This only encouraged Jeremy, who was soon inconsolable.

As Jeremy finally calmed down, Jean couldn’t help but smile at him across the table, shaking his head in mock disappointment. Jeremy hummed at the end of his laugh and sat his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. He tilted his head slowly, his eyes still amused half-moons peering over at Jean.

“How come your smile only ever seems to come out at night, Jean Moreau?”

And well, Jean didn’t have an answer for that.


	4. Sleepyhead & Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of filler in that not much happens, but Jean gets to spin again, and Jeremy starts to realized how royally fucked™ he is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok color guard stuff:  
> Double Turn- When you spin around two times under a toss. Real cool and impressive  
> Pyramid- a way some people warm up on weapon where you start with smaller tosses and work your way up  
> Hilt- the part people hold when they swordfight
> 
> I'm like,,,, really really sorry for my french

*  
JK

Jeremy skipped all of his classes the next day. Leaving Jean all alone in the apartment again was decidedly not an option.  He knew this could not be a permanent solution, but he was nowhere even close to finding an alternative. At least he got to sleep in.

Except sleeping in for Jeremy was usually 6:30 as opposed to 6:00. It didn’t matter how tightly he shut the blinds or how late he got to sleep the night before. If the sun was up, Jeremy was up. It was a blessing and a curse. Mostly a blessing, he decided, as he lay in bed, awake, but not yet having opened his eyes.

He was much more convinced of this blessing when he had a cup of coffee in his system. He worked away the morning, trying to anticipate what he might be missing in class today. Jean emerged from the room as Jeremy was pouring his third mug.

Jean was still soft from sleep and Jeremy had to resist poking fun at his rumpled appearance. He wasn’t going to walk on eggshells around Jean. That would just make things worse, but Jeremy still felt the need to bite back his easy teasing until he knew Jean a little better. He rolled his lips into his mouth to keep from smiling as Jean reached up and rubbed at his eyes with the sleeves of his black shirt.

“Coffee, sleepyhead?” Jeremy said, wincing internally even as the words left his mouth. He and Jean were decidedly not on the cute nickname level of friendship. Or like, any level, for that matter. Jean seemed to agree with these sentiments, glancing sideways at Jeremy as though he had insulted his mother. Actually, he didn’t know enough about Jean to know if that metaphor worked.

“Sorry,” Jeremy said, quickly. “I call my sisters that in the morning. Just habit, I guess.” If that was a complete lie, no one ever had to know, right? Jean just widened his eyes as though Jeremy was testing his patience and reached across the table, grabbing the coffee pot. Jeremy smiled a little and shook his head, ducking quickly back into his laptop to hide the expression.

Jeremy had been having this problem where he felt like the luckiest person in the world any time Jean so much as vaguely acknowledged him, even when he was acting annoyed at Jeremy’s very existence. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind that this might turn into a problem in the near future, but he shoved the thoughts away in favor of living in his constant state of blissful denial.

Right then. So.

“I was thinking we should go and see the gym today.” Jeremy suggested as Jean drank his coffee. (Completely black Jeremy might add, even though he slid the cream and sugar over the table in Jean’s direction.) “We could go to the equipment closet, get you a sabre, spin a little?”

Jean’s head snapped up at that and Jeremy took it as a yes.

“Alright, cool.” Jeremy said. Jean looked a little ticked off at Jeremy not having waited for an answer. “I’m sure you’re ready to get back to spinning. We’ll leave at one.” And Jean didn’t argue.

Jeremy went into the room to pull on some practice clothes and then grabbed his rifle while he waited for Jean to do the same. He did some drops spins while he waited, only stopping when he heard the bedroom door open again. “Ready?” He asked, turning around. Jean was wearing black sweatpants which were cinched at the ankle and a thin black t-shirt. In all black, Jean honestly could have been ready for a Ravens performance and Jeremy felt slightly self-conscious about his mismatched basketball shorts and t-shirt.

“Yes.” Jean said, and what had Jeremy asked? He couldn’t even remember.

“What?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“Oh! Sure, yeah. Let’s do it.”

As they exited the apartment, Jeremy realized Jean had been holed up there without leaving since he’d arrived. He didn’t really have anywhere to go, Jeremy supposed. He felt sort of bad about it, and thought maybe he should have showed him around better the first day. To make up for it, Jeremy pointed out every point of interest he could find on the way to the gym. He would shade his eyes and point over to some building or another, rifle in hand, and Jean would just frown into the sun, sometimes following Jeremy’s gaze, other times not.

When they reached campus and Jeremy started pointing out some of the academic buildings, Jean seemed to be paying attention a bit more carefully.

“So,” Jeremy said. He hesitated for a moment, but decided to throw caution to the wind. “Are you thinking of transferring here next semester?”

“I don’t know. Um, maybe.” Jean answered, the syllables drawn out, unsure.

“You don’t have to you know.”

“I know.” Jean nodded a few times. “It’s odd.”

“Is it?” Jeremy asked, careful, but firm. “There aren’t many programs actually affiliated with universities, and Edgar Allen is the only one that forces their members to attend class there.” Jeremy needed Jean to see he had it backwards. It was the other way around. The Trojans weren’t odd, they were the norm.

“And it works,” Jean shot back. “Obviously.”

Jeremy just sighed. “What would you major in?” He asked, suddenly very curious about this. What were Jean’s interests outside of guard? Who had Jean been before the Ravens?

“Oh, um.” Jean looked down at the sidewalk. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Well, what were you studying at Edgar Allen?”

“Oh. Well, we um, we all studied either Health and Wellness or Physical Therapy, with a minor in Dance. They fit well with guard, you know. Made us better even when we weren’t in rehearsals. I did Health and Wellness.”

Jeremy had stopped in his tracks and Jean had been so intently focused on the ground that he didn’t notice until he was a few feet away. When he finally noticed, he turned on his heel and his body was lined with sunlight.

“What?”

“What do you mean, _what_? Jean, you understand that’s not normal, right? You should have been able to study whatever you want. Guard isn’t the be all end all. It isn’t your whole life.”

“It isn’t your whole life.” Jean corrected. He turned around and kept walking. Jeremy huffed a heavy sigh before going after him, struggling a bit to keep up with Jean’s long stride.

“It shouldn’t be your whole life, Jean!”

“Don’t patronize me.” His tone was lighter than Jeremy might have expected, the words sounding almost like banter. Jeremy found himself barking out a breathless laugh, still jogging in attempt to catch up to Jean.

“You don’t even know where you’re going!” He shouted.

“Then get up here and show me, _soliel_.” And Jeremy wasn't sure what that meant, but he was 85% positive it was some kind of insult. He couldn’t believe this sass.

“What does that mean? What did you call me?”

*  
JM

Jean was in a good mood, yes. Jeremy was taking him to get a sabre and then they were going to spin. It had been forever since Jean had gotten his hands moving, so he was feeling good. That didn’t mean Jeremy’s constant, delighted stare was, by any means, called for.

“Cut it out, Knox.” Jean snapped, after one particular moment during which Jean had laughed a bit at something or other Jeremy had said and the captain had looked at him with these wide eyes, sort of shocked.

“What?” He had this amused glint in his eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Jeremy was playing dumb. Jean did not justify this behavior with an answer. He saw Jeremy shake his head a few times wearing an annoying smirk.

“Alright, here we are. So, here’s Beaky Hall.” He stopped in front of large staircase which marked the entrance to a brick building. “It’s sort of the old gym. The sports complex is across the way over there. But Beaky’s huge, if a little outdated. We basically share with the dance team because there’s a studio in the basement.” Jeremy finished and took a deep breath. Jean had been a bit worried when he refused to breathe between statements. He then turned halfway to Jean, looked at him, and rung out his hands, like he was nervous. “I know it’s not much. It’s not like what you’re used to with… at Edgar Allen, but-”

“Il est bon.” Jean said with a shrug. “It’s good.” And the sun returned to Jeremy’s face. Jean squinted and looked away.

Jeremy unlocked the equipment closet with a tiny key attached to his key ring and pushed inside. And this was nothing like the Raven’s had been. Edgar Allen’s equipment room was dark with rows and rows of black shelves holding weapons, uniforms, and neatly folded flag silks in shadowy hues. The Trojan’s was a mess, for one. There were silks of all colors seemingly strewn about the room and bright rows of uniforms hung on a long coatrack. Jean watched Jeremy make his way over to a box of untaped sabres. He had to step over seemingly random and useless objects as he went, everything from Trojan colored pom-poms to odd chair props.

“Sorry,” He said. “It’s a bit of a mess.” Eventually, Jeremy got the box over to Jean and dropped it at his feet with a satisfied _hrmph_. “There. Go ahead and get a feel for a few of ‘em. They’re all new, but I’m sure you have some sort of weight preference.”

Jeremy nodded and began sorting through the box. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he was sure he would know it when he felt it. Meanwhile, Jeremy puttered about in an attempt to straighten up the room.

“So like,” Jeremy said as Jean pulled out a sabre to do a few singles. He paused after the words, like he was second guessing himself, but barreled through anyway. “What do you think about going to dinner with some of the team tonight?” He sounded hopeful. He wasn’t looking at Jean, but was instead bent over, folding up some silks and stacking them on a shelf.

Jean mulled it over for a few seconds. “Yeah, sure.” He said, cursing his good mood.

“Yeah?” Jeremy turned around, all hopeful and bright eyed.

“Oui.”

“Okay! Great, cool! Okay!” This was one too many terms of agreement used in conjecture for Jean’s taste, but Jeremy just kept right on talking. “I’ll text them and let them know. It’ll just be the few of us near campus, nothing crazy. We’ll talk about the time and place later, but we’ll figure out somewhere good. It’ll be great!”

Jean still wasn’t entirely convinced, but it was easy to hope when Jeremy was so sure.

“That _the one_?” Jeremy asked, gesturing to the blade in Jean’s palm, as though he were referring to a potential soulmate, not a sabre. Jean just shrugged and decided it would be good enough. He was antsy to see the gym, impatient to start spinning.

Jeremy unlocked the gym door with the same key and held it open for Jean. It was different, but that was what Jean was expecting. He knew there wouldn’t be dark walls that seemed to climb up to the heavens, wouldn’t be bright white stage lights hanging from the ceiling. Instead, there were bleachers climbing up the cinderblock walls and huge windows that let in all the light they could need. The floor was constructed with yellow slacks of wood and seemed to have been waxed over thousands of times. _TROJANS_ was printed in bold red letters across each end zone.  

Jeremy was watching him the way people watched you when they wanted to know whether or not you were liking the movie. Jean just walked to the center of the gym, looking around as he went. He let himself adjust to the lighting and prepped for a toss. He tried not to pay attention to the way Jeremy’s eyes were tracing his every move. Jean promptly did a double turn under a five.

“Are you kidding me?” Jeremy asked after Jean caught. He hadn’t spun for a few weeks so his technique was a bit off, but Jean hadn’t thought it had been that bad. He looked down at his feet just as Jeremy kept on talking. “So you can’t spin for weeks and then you just pick up a sabre and do _that_. No warm-up, no pyramid bullshit for you, huh? Just get right into it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“ _Jean_.” For once, Jeremy seemed speechless. “That was…” He shook his head a few times. “That was impressive.”

Oh. Well, Jean hadn’t expected that. He rolled his eyes and dropped into double time for a few counts, just to have something to do with his hands. Jeremy was still standing to the side, and staring at Jean with something like awe. Jean wished he wouldn’t try and make him feel better like this.

“You just going to stand there or are you going to get out here and spin?” Jean asked, quirking his mouth up on one side. Now Jeremy rolled his eyes. He walked over to a speaker plugged in by the bleachers and hooked his phone up to it. When the speaker turned on, it made a sort of booming static noise, which made Jean jump about five feet into the air. If Jeremy noticed he did not comment.

“I’m going to stretch first so I don’t pull a dang muscle if you want to join me.” Jeremy said. “Actually,” He added as an afterthought. “You don’t have a choice. I’m your captain now and you are not going to pull a muscle on my watch.”

*  
JK

Jeremy had known Jean would be good. Of course he would be. It was just, Jean was so good he was making Jeremy feel completely inadequate. And he didn’t even know it. He didn’t even realize how freaking good he was. Jeremy sort of felt like he'd been run over by a truck, but somehow enjoyed it. 

Even his stretching was impressive. Jean was so flexible from years of dance training. Jeremy had just reached his goal of being able to touch his toes. Luckily, Jean did not seem to notice this and was pretty absorbed in doing his own stretches.

So it was all fine.

“So, what kind of dance is there in the show? Anything you can teach me now, so I can be ready?”

Jeremy should have gotten Laila to come. She would have been able to teach the opening dance beautifully. But as it was, he and Jean were alone in the gym, and he was looking at Jeremy expectantly. Jeremy had never been more resentful of his stiff, awkward limbs than he was at this moment.

“Yeah, actually. We do ensemble movement to open the show. Some of it might be a little different depending on where you are on the floor, but you’ll get the gist.” Jeremy got to his feet and walked a bit closer to Jean. “Promise not to laugh, though. I’m not the best dancer, alright?”

Jean just shrugged which didn’t really do anything to make Jeremy feel better. Jeremy jogged over and paused the music.

“Ok, so. We all start like this… and then we come up, reach like this, and collapse…” Jeremy talked through the movements as he went, looking up at Jean occasionally who was halfheartedly mimicking the steps. “Then we come up, glissade, reach again, and barrel.” Jeremy came up when he landed. “And yeah, there’s some partner stuff after that, but I can show you that later.”

Jeremy couldn’t read Jean’s expression. He was just nodded along at Jeremy’s words.

“You’re right.” He said eventually. When Jeremy tilted is head in question, Jean let out a breathy laugh. “You really aren’t the best dancer.” Jeremy sighed and forced a smile.

“I know, I told you! You agreed not to make fun.”

“I am not making fun.”

“You are too.” Jeremy pouted, half real and half pretend. “Anyway, I make up for it spinning.”

“Oh yeah?”

And they grabbed their respective weapons and tossed one after the other. Jean would put a toss in the air, like a challenge, and Jeremy would mimic it. Then the roles would reverse. They found that in this aspect, they were pretty evenly matched. It might have gone on for hours. Jeremy couldn’t tell. He hadn’t gotten this much of a workout just spinning outside of rehearsal in a long time. (Maybe never.)

Eventually, Jeremy collapsed in a sweaty mess onto the gym floor, flinging his rifle aside dramatically and sprawling out against the wood. (“I don’t think I can go on, Jean. You’ll have to tell the team… I love them…”) Jean rolled his eyes into next week, but laid down near Jeremy anyway. Their legs were going in opposite directions, but their heads were close enough that Jeremy could see the annoying lack of sweat clinging to Jean’s hair. Jeremy tried to look away before Jean noticed him staring, (at his hair, for god's sake) but might not have made it in time. He quickly looked up to the ceiling and let the fluorescent gym lights burn their image into his vision.

“Hey Jean?” He asked, when his breathing slowed to a normal pace. Jean made a “ _hmm?”_ noise. “Do you want to, like…” Jeremy trailed off, unsure. “Do you want to talk about yesterday?” Jeremy half expected Jean to get up and walk away. Another half of him was terrified this would lead to a repeat of the day before.

“Did you skip your classes today?” Jean asked, instead of doing either of those things.

“Oh, um. Yeah.” Jeremy admitted, not that he was hiding it. It just hadn't come up.

“You didn’t have to do that. I would have been fine.” But Jeremy could tell that Jean hadn’t even convinced himself that those words were true. They were force and a little bit hysterical. Jean sighed a little and scrubbed at his face with his palms. “I did not know that that would happen. I should not have come.”

“No! Jean, no! I don’t blame you.” Jeremy said it as though Jean was being silly, preposterous.

“Well you should blame me.”

Jeremy felt his heart shatter into a million different pieces. What had the Raven's done to this boy? It wasn't fair. He couldn't ask, though, what they'd dont to him. Jean would tell him if he wanted him to know. 

“That’s ridiculous.” Jeremy said back. 

Jean got up from the floor now, scooping his sabre up as he went. Jeremy sat up halfway to watch him. “You will not skip your classes tomorrow.” He said, poking Jeremy in the ribs with the hilt of the sabre.

“Hey! I’m your captain! You do what I say, not the other way around!” And Jeremy was completely joking, but the words triggered something in Jean and any trace of a smile fell from his face. He took a few steps backwards as Jeremy got to his feet.

“Sorry.” Jean muttered.

“What? No, don’t be sorry. I’m just messing around, Jean.”

“I’m ready to go now.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Sure thing.”

Jeremy followed Jean out of the gym, more confused than ever, and completely determined to make sure that they destroyed the Ravens this season. 


	5. Pomegranate Lemonade & a Disappearing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean meets the team! Ft. a bunch of made up Trojans and Jeremy the drama queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This barely has to do with real color guard things so i think you should be aye okay
> 
> (Also I literally don't edit bc im trash so sorry about typos and feel free to point em out to me if you want!)

*  
JM

At night, the campus and surrounding town were lit up to look like a city. Jean didn’t realize the sidewalks would be this crowded and the vibe would be so chaotic.  He and Jeremy made their way down the street as the sun set over the corner stores and coffee shops. The sky was a mess of purples and pinks and Jeremy wouldn’t shut up about it.

He also kept burying his mouth in his scarf as he spoke, so Jean could barely understand what he was saying.

“What a gorgeous nmmfft dnchhfnk?”

“It’s nice.” Jean agreed, although it was getting a bit too cold for Jean’s taste.

He was still a little bit shaken up. Spinning had been good, really good. It felt fantastic to get a sabre back in his hands, but the whole time he couldn’t help but stare at his hands, clothed in regulation tan gloves, and his captain, who was not Riko. It was almost like every time he looked up he had to remember where he was. It was somewhat exhausting, and definitely disorienting.

The feeling of Jeremy’s shoulder bumping lightly against his own brought Jean back to reality.

Reality, right, where he was on his way to meet some of the Trojans in some crowded resteraunt. He felt sort of sick to his stomach. Jeremy bumped his shoulder again, this time more intention behind the motion.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. They’re gonna lof youmm.” Jean wanted to tear that wool scarf off of Jeremy’s neck, but the deep red of it made Jeremy’s eyes look nice, so Jean supposed he could keep it. Either way, he wasn’t even sure that was what he was worried about. “If they don’t I’ll punch them,” Came Jeremy’s voice again. He laid a hand over his heart and the other in the air as if making an oath. “swear it.”

“You are the most dramatic person I have ever met.” Jean replied drily, but Jeremy’s words sat in the pit of his stomach like a fire, warming his insides, all the way up to his cheeks. Jean wasn’t sure he had ever felt anything like it. Maybe sometime, far away, when he was not comforted by the sun but by the sea. The only way he could think to describe it was _safe_.

But that thought, in itself, was completely unsafe, and so Jean shoved it out of the way and instead moped about how cold he was. Jeremy just smiled at his side. It seemed the boy shone twice as bright after the sun set.  

Jean, for one, was not sure how long he could handle so much cheerfulness.

“Almost there,” said Jeremy. “See the building with the green roof?” Jean did see it, but Jean said nothing, for his heart seemed to have gone into overdrive. He wasn’t a nervous person. He hadn’t had pre-show jitters in years, and yet, when faced with the prospect of meeting his new teammates, his teeth were on edge. He just nodded stiffly and continued on walking.

Jeremy was practically bouncing by the time they reached the shop front. He seemed to be peering into the windows to catch a glimpse of his friends. Jean did not understand why he couldn’t just wait until they got inside.

The door made a dinging sound as they entered. It was actually pretty nice and not too packed. It had a diner sort of feel with memorabilia all over the walls and string lights hung in rows across the ceiling.

“There they are!” Jeremy exclaimed, bypassing the ‘please wait to be seated’ sign and almost running over the hostess in the process. Jean found himself making apologetic eyes at her and then wondering who had momentarily inhabited his body. Jean seemed to remember Jeremy after this and reached back to grab his wrist. He proceeded to pull Jean along as they weaved through the tables.

Jean could see the dark haired girl from the other day seated with a few others. Jeremy slid right into the booth when they reached the table and patted the leather seat, in motion for to Jean to follow.

“Alright gang, how’s everyone doing?” Jeremy greeted brightly. “This is Jean! He’s French, he’s a phenomenal dancer, and he’s out new sabre!” Jean wasn’t sure how he felt about this word choice, but it didn’t matter because Jeremy was already moving on. “Jean, you already met Alvarez, and this is Laila, Frankie, Dav, and Angel.”

Jean looked at each face, trying to keep up with Jeremy as he paired them with names. Laila was the sort of girl that you knew was lovely just by looking at her. Frankie was long and wiry with a smile that more closely resembled a smirk. Dav had lavender hair. And Angel wore green eyeliner and a hoop in her nose.

They were all looking at Jean, and he knew he was supposed to say something, he just couldn’t for the life of him figure out what.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Jean.” Laila supplied, and oh of course. That made sense.

“Uh, yeah, uh. You too.” Jean was baffled at his own idiocy. He wanted to crawl under the table, for more reasons than one.

Thankfully, or by kind fate of the gods, the waitress showed up moments later and put off any awkward attempt at conversation. She took drink orders. Everyone was very excited to order various flavors of lemonade. Jeremy pointed out that section of the menu to Jean, but he just got water anyway. He maybe say Jeremy frown from the corner of his eye. Jean felt smug, like he’d cracked the façade.

The waitress walked away and everyone started jabbering about what they were going to order. Jean had no idea what to expect from half the things on the menu.

He ended up ordering a garden salad, and the one boy, Frankie, made some joke about Jean being bland. Jean scowled at him as Jeremy ordered his food, and didn’t even hear what he ordered. Frankie tried to ignore his gaze by sticking his nose in the menu. The boy ordered chicken fingers. Jean snorted, because that rendered his earlier comment completely hypocritical. Now Frankie was glowering, but Jeremy seemed to be biting back a smile, so Jean didn’t care.

The girls didn’t bother Jean nearly as much. He especially liked Laila and Angel, neither of which ever really put him on the spot. Alverez kept asking questions about guard and his life, and it made Jean feel like he was on some sort of quiz show. She hadn’t brought up the Ravens specifically though, and Jean wondered if Jeremy had warned them off the subject.

When the waitress returned, it was with the rainbow of lemonades. Jean was taken aback by the sheer vividness of the drinks. She put his water down last, and Jean did find himself feeling a little bland.

Maybe sensing this, Jeremy leaned over as the waitress left and clinked drinks with Jean.

“Don’t like lemonade?” He asked.

“No,” Jean replied. “I do. There were just…”

“So many options, I know!” Jeremy finished for him. “You have to try it though. Every single flavor is fantastic! Best lemonade I’ve ever had.” Jean eyed the glass warily. It was flavored like Pomegranate, if Jean remembered correctly. The shocking pink color was a little much, but Jeremy sounded as though he was on the verge of making another declarative oath, so Jean bent over and took a sip of the offered lemonade.

Jean coughed as the sugar his the back of his throat. He had expected sweet, but mon Dieu.

Jeremy frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“I’m sorry, Jean. Do you not like it?”

It was actually pretty good, albeit exceptionally sweet. Jean himself might lean more towards Angel’s blindingly orange, mango flavor, but he could see the appeal.

“We should have warned Jean that Jeremy here runs on carbs and pixie sticks. He doesn’t drink anything that isn’t half sugar.” Jean was still clearing his throat and trying to recover, but he nodded in agreement and appreciation toward Angel’s explanation. Jeremy looked absurdly guilty.

“It was good, Jeremy,” Jean said, finally. “Seriously, I liked it.” And Jean might have said anything to see Jeremy’s face brighten. “You’re going to be bouncing off the walls, later, aren’t you?”

Everyone laughed at that, and Jean felt warm again.

It was all going relatively well. Jean was settling in a bit by the time the food came, and Frankie wasn’t too much of a talker, so Jean was feeling good. He ate his salad, and some of the fries Jeremy shoved at him, claiming once more that they were ‘the best fries I’ve ever tasted, I swear Jean.” Jean was beginning to think Jeremy said something similar about everything he ate.

Jean hadn’t wanted dessert, but Jeremy made him share his brownie and ice cream.

“If I finish this all by myself, Jean, I may not sleep for three nights.”

Jean was reaching for another bite of said brownie, when Alvarez spoke up with another one of her questions. Jean could hear it now in the tone of her voice before she even said the words.

“So Jean, still sporting those Raven blacks, I see?” Jean went stiff in his seat and Jeremy did too. Jean lowered his fork slowly and swallowed noisily, although his throat was inexplicably dry. Jeremy was looking from Jean to Alvarez at lightning speed, his expression changing each time from concern to annoyance, respectively.

“Um, yes.” He choked out, because it was the only answer to give.

“Why’s that?” She was trying to sound conversational instead of confrontational, but it wasn’t working. Laila put a hand on Alvarez’s arm and Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, but they never got to hear what he had to say. The waitress showed up once again, saving Jean, and he wondered if she was somehow watching and waiting for the best time to pop in. Jean decided in that moment to leave extra tip.

She cheerfully placed the check on the table and instructed for them to bring payment to the register and to have a great night.

As soon as she was gone, Jeremy dug in his wallet and pulled out a bunch of cash. He plopped it on the table and started scooching out of the booth. Jean had no choice but to scooch with him until they were both out of the bench.

“We’re going.” Jeremy said as he stood. “That should be enough.”

“Jeremy, I’m paying with a card.” Jean said.

“It’s fine. I’ve got it, we’re going.” He repeated, and Jean wanted to argue but he had never seen Jeremy angry, and he wanted it to stop, so he just agreed and decided to pay him back later. Then Jeremy’s fingers were around Jean’s wrist again and they were leaving the way they came. The poor hostess jumped back in fear of another collision. This time Jeremy managed a slightly manic “Have a good night!” over his shoulder as he went.

“Jeremy, slow down. It’s okay.”

“It’s not though. It’s not!”

“No, seriously. It is. It’s fine, Jeremy, _Soliel_.”

Something about the French broke through and Jeremy finally came to a stop. He ran one hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. It’s just. She’s always so insensitive! Like, god, she can be so frustrating.” Jeremy let out a deep breath and finally let go of Jean’s wrist. “I’m sorry, though.”

“It’s not your fault.” Jean reasoned.

“I feel like it is.” Jeremy muttered, and Jean couldn’t figure out what the world did to deserve Jeremy Knox.

“I feel like you are much too hard on yourself.” Jean replied. He did not look at Jeremy. He just turned and walked off down the street, without looking back to see if Jeremy would follow.

“You always do this when you have no idea where you are going!”

*  
JK

Jeremy was nervous to leave Jean and go to class the next day. He could only hope that Jean would sleep in until it was time for him to go back to Beaky and actually learn the opening dance from Laila. They had arranged it over dinner last night, Jeremy pulling the captain card by feigning worry about Jean picking up the show, when he was really only worried about what would happen if Jean was alone in the apartment all day.

Jean, for his part, seemed to at least be able to tolerate Laila, so hopefully it would go alright.

So, Jeremy rolled out of bed and dressed while the coffee maker was struggling to come to life. He was dressed and ready early, so he doctored up his coffee and sat in bed, scrolling through his phone as he sipped.

He only looked up when he heard Jean shift in his sleep, rolling over so he was facing Jeremy instead of the wall. Jean didn’t look peaceful in sleep, not right then anyway. He wore a pained expression, the creases in his forehead deepening from the way his eyebrows were drawn together.

Jeremy wanted to walk over and smooth out the wrinkles with his thumb. It was an odd thing to want, Jeremy realized shortly after the thought crossed his mind, but he really just didn’t like seeing people unhappy.

That was it.

He tore his eyes away from Jean’s sleeping form, but it did not last long, for seconds later Jean was making soft, pained noises in his sleep. Jeremy snapped his eyes back over to the bed, letting out a tiny concerned gasp. Jeremy stood now, but didn’t walk over, unsure of what would be the best thing to do. Then Jean was muttering in frantic French and it was getting more and more desperate. When Jeremy got closer he saw tears running down Jean’s cheeks.

He had to wake him. It was unbearable to watch.

Jeremy hated waking people up in the first place. They were always either miserable or angry and those were two of Jeremy’s least favorite emotions. (His favorites being joy, belonging, and love, of course.) This was even worse than usual, though. Jeremy couldn’t be sure how Jean would react.

He approached quietly and kneeled down beside the bed, so as not to be looming over him when he opened his eyes. Jeremy reached over carefully and just put his hand lightly on Jean’s shoulder. He didn’t lash out like Jeremy had expected, but flinched away violently, throwing his hands out as if to protect himself.

“Don’t want to. Pas se soir, not tonight.” He cried as his eyes flew open.

Jean’s eyes were manic and staring at Jeremy for a few terrifying seconds before he blinked and visibly relaxed, just slightly. He was shaking his head, small and quick.

“Jean, hey.” Jeremy tried his best to sound soothing, but his voice came out a little hoarse. “You’re okay, hey. Just me.” Jean seemed to remember something. He closed his eyes and shuddered under Jeremy’s light touch. “Jean you were having a nightmare. I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure if I should wake you up. I didn’t know what you would want.”

Jean opened his eyes and looked relatively composed, so Jeremy retracted his hand.

“It’s fine. That’s fine.”

Jeremy tried not to look too concerned, he knew it could be misread for pity, and Jean would not like being pitied.

“Okay, alright.” Jeremy said. He was scared to ask, but he did it anyway. “Does this happen a lot, Jean?”

Jean looked down and tried to wipe away the tear stains from his pillow. Jeremy felt like garbage. That was all the answer he needed. Eventually Jean nodded a few times, and Jeremy’s heart sank even lower.

“Most nights.” Jean clarified. Jeremy put his palm to his forehead and scrubbed through his hair.

“I’m so sorry, Jean. I didn’t know, I never heard. I’m a really heavy sleeper, oh god, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Okay,” Jeremy agreed. “But, do you want me to wake you next time? Or just let you sleep?”

“Um, yes you can… wake me, please.” Jean sounded miserable and Jeremy couldn’t do anything to fix it. It was maybe the most helpless Jeremy had ever felt.

“Of course, sure.” Jeremy reached out again and gave Jean’s hand a quick squeeze. Jean’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away, which Jeremy thought was probably good, some sort of baby step toward normalcy. Jeremy’s phone lit up with a text message and the time glowed up at him in the semi-darkness. “Shit, okay. I have to go to class.” Jeremy wanted to ask if Jean was completely sure he should go to class, but he already knew what the answer would be. He backed away and started gathering up his things. “Just, try to get some more sleep okay? I mean, if you want to. Um, don’t forget about Laila though, she’d be devastated to be stood up. There’s more coffee in the pot if you want some! Oh, and-” Jeremy felt like there were a million more things he wanted to say, both related and unrelated to his departure, but Jean interrupted him mid-thought.

“Go to class, Jeremy.” Jeremy was fairly certain that no one spoke his name as beautifully as Jean, even when he sounded exasperated and annoyed. He sucked in a deep breath and pulled his backpack on.

“Okay. Bye, Jean.”

“Bye, Jeremy.”

*  
JM

Jean was finishing his last few sips of coffee when he got a text from Laila asking if he was ready to go. He was fairly sure Jeremy used the exact same coffee beans as Jean had that first morning, but somehow Jeremy’s coffee always turned out way better than Jean’s did.

He didn’t want to think of Jeremy, though. Or more accurately, didn’t want to think of what Jeremy must think of him. Nightmares were childish, Jean knew this, but it wasn’t his fault they kept right on coming. He had thought the night terrors had been too quiet for Jeremy to hear, or maybe that he was just ignoring them. He was so kind about it though, and didn’t even seem to judge Jean. It was only a matter of time before Jeremy ran out of patience for him.

Laila was driving them in Alvarez’s car because she was the, self-claimed, laziest person on the planet. Jean shouldn’t have minded that much, but for some reason the cramped interior of the car made him feel a bit cagey.

After the car ride, though, the afternoon brightened when they started working on the opening dance. Laila was a gorgeous dancer and Jean liked working with her. Her technique was just quirky enough to make her movement interesting, but just correct enough not to get points docked. She was enchanting to watch.

She also apologized for Alvarez’s behavior the night before, but didn’t make a huge deal about it, which Jean appreciated.

Their dance session ended too soon when Laila got a call from Alvarez about needing the car right away.

“I’m so sorry, Jean! I should have made sure she didn’t need it! Would you like to come back to the apartments or would you rather stay here and spin?”

“It’s alright. I’ll stay.” At least here, he would have the company of his sabre.

“Alright! Jeremy gets off of class pretty soon, so I’ll let him know you’re here. I’m sure he’ll swing by.”

“Alright, yeah.”

Laila packed up and started towards the door, but stopped in her tracks as though she’d forgotten something.

“He adores you, you know.” She said, turning around.

“What?”

“Jeremy. He loves having you here, Jean. And it’s only been a few days. I’m sure the rest of us will too! I know I already do.”

Jean was equal parts embarrassed and doubtful. He felt his face flush as he shrugged. Laila just shook her head a few times and left the gym.

*  
JK

Jeremy was freaking out a little.

Most people couldn’t imagine Jeremy ever freaking out, but that was just because it all happened on the inside. Even last night when he left the restaurant he had been semi-composed.

That was all out the window now because Jean wasn’t at Beaky and he wasn’t answering his phone and he wasn’t at the apartment and _Laila was supposed to have been with him_. He knew, objectively, that Jean didn’t need some kind of babysitter, but Laila had left him alone at the gym and who knew where he might have gone after.

“Are you sure he isn’t there? He could be sleeping, not answering the door?” Jeremy asked Laila through the phone.

“Jer, you gave us a spare key. We’re literally _in_ your apartment. He’s not here.”

Jeremy cursed under his breath. He paused and took a few breaths. He didn’t want to take it all out on Laila. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t really know, and she still couldn’t know the real reasons behind Jeremy’s concern. It was Jean’s business, Jeremy shouldn’t even have known.

“Alright, thanks guys.” He said halfheartedly. “I’m just going to hang up and keep calling him.

“Okay. Good luck.” Came Laila’s answer.

“Thanks.”

“Sure, and don’t worry. I’m sure he’s alright.”

And Jeremy was really freaking out.


	6. Search Parties & Studios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long but here we go. This is the second chapter in a row that really hasn't been about color guard at all, we'll probably get back to that next time!

JM

Jean only observed at first. He stood in the shadows and watched through his eyelashes, the picture of disinterest.

He was sure that Angel was some kind of psychic, was convinced that she somehow knew something he barely remembered himself. 

"And what do you call this?" Jeremy asked after a few minutes, as Angel went through some sort of prep process.

"Intuition." She answered, and really, which question was she answering, the one he'd asked out loud or the one still stuck in his head? He narrowed his eyes at her. She did not seem to notice.

"How long have you been doing... this?" Jean gestured vaguely as Angel got to work.

"Since I was a kid." Angel shrugged.

"Did you have purple hair as a kid as well?" He asked, in jest. Angel rolled her eyes even as they crinkled up at the edges. Their cohabitation of this space was  surprisingly comfortable, a fact that was slightly alarming to Jean. Neither spoke for a while. Angel furrowed her brow when she worked, sometimes her tongue poked out from the corner of her mouth.

"Hey," Angel said, after some time. "Are you just going to stand there?" Jeremy raised an eyebrow in silent question. Angel just shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, knock yourself out, kid." And it sort of sounded like a dare.

Jean could already feel a kind competitive camaraderie forming under the surface, which was new, as the Ravens hadn't left room for that sort of spirit. They were all the same. One Raven was another Raven was another. The Ravens were one, and no one was better or worse than anyone else.

Even with the Ravens though, Jean could never quite flip the switch on that ultra competitive part of his brain.

A challenge was a challenge, and Jean always accepted a challenge, even though this particular hurdle was much was a much more difficult leap than one might imagine.

JK

Jeremy rallied the team. They didn't ask him to explain. Half of them knew why his face was so pale, and the other half knew not to ask.

It had only happened a few times, but they always indulged him, humored him. He wished he didn't have to do this every time something like this happened, but he had already made that mistake once.

It was maybe a little worse with Jean. Jeremy knew Jean wasn't really in a great headspace, knew how overwhelming it probably was starting a whole knew life. Jean hadn't been in town long enough to have usual spots, and didn't have a place Jeremy knew he might go. Jeremy had no leads.

He fowns himself flashing back to that night at championships, when Jean strode down the hallway, his long legs always a few steps ahead, Jeremy could never quite catch up to him.

He supposed it was the safer flashback to have in the current situation. The other option would be entirely couster productive.

He tried not to blame Leila.

He tried even harder not to blame himself, but couldn't really figure a way that it wouldn't be his fault if something bad were to happen to Jean. He was constantly hit with worst-case scenarios. He wished Jean would just answer his goddamn phone. Jeremy kept getting the voicemail, which was, frustratingly, entirely in French.

They drove around town for an hour, Leila in the drivers side. The guard group chat was blowing up to the point of confusion. Jeremy resolved to calling each car individually.

Jeremy dialed numbers and only stayed on the line long enough to ask if they had seen anything. "Nothing." Stan said in lieu of a greeting.

"Us either. You are with someone, yes?" Jeremy asked. He didn't need anyone else to disappear while wandering the streets alone.

"Yep, Shannon and Harv are with me, don't worry."

"Not Angel? Thought she'd be with you?"

"Nah, figured she was with Dani."

"We just saw Dani. She's not."

"Oh. Shit! You know what? She went to spin this afternoon. And if she isn't there anymore, I bet you she's-"

"Got it." Jeremy said, not waiting for him to finish. "Left here Leila. Thanks Stan."

"Anytime, boss."

It was as good a lead as they had gotten. Angel and Jeremy had seemed to get along at dinner the night before. It could make sense. Jeremy just hoped they were inside Angel's normal classroom and not standing out back smoking Angel's mystery drugs.

"For the last time, Jeremy, it's only weed." Leila said, when he voiced these concerns. "It's not a mystery."

Jeremy waved her off. "I don't pretend to know about drug culture." He was snappy, but he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it. It didn't matter, Leila just laughed in good nature. She reached over and patted his shoulder.

"It will be fine. I think there's a good chance he's with her. They kind of hit it off I think. I can see them getting along." At another moment, Jeremy's heart might sink at this phrasing. He might go through a steady process of denial and a couple of flimsy excuses to explain this. At the present, though, he did not have need for such concerns. "It's okay, lovey." Remember what happened when it was Dani? And last year when we were worried about Alv?" Jeremy nodded. He knew she wasn't excusing his concerns, she was only trying to comfort him. It still made him feel like he was being ridiculous. He knew the rest of them always thought he was overreacting.

He also knew by most standards, he was. Still, he couldn't stop bouncing his leg as Leila drove through campus, purposeful, but without breaking any laws. It was probably good Jeremy wasn't driving. Jeremy broke traffic laws on a good day.

Angel was there, glueing one weird looking object to another, neither of which could name. She looked serene. Jeremy looked like a tornado. He probably brought his energy into the room, because Angel looked up the moment his hand was on the knob. Jeremy's stomach lurched. Jean was not with her.

"Do you not look at your phone?!" Jeremy snapped. She raised her eyebrows, annoyed but collected. She could tell something must have happened to get Jeremy like this. "Jean. Have you seen Jean?"

"Tall, handsome, French?" She asked, Jeremy wanted to strangle her for her blasé tone of voice. He nodded, all the same, though it was probably a rhetorical question. "Yeah I've seen him." He left like twenty minutes ago.

"Did he say where he was going?" Leila asked, quick, but she seemed much less strained and desperate than Jeremy felt.

"He didn't say." Angel shrugged. Jeremy's shoulders sunk even lower. He was wild, he still felt the chase in his veins, but Leila let out a sigh of relief next to him. She could sense Jeremy's confusion, and so placed a hand on his arm.

"He's okay though Jeremy. Think about it. He's fine. He was just here."

That actually hadn't occurred to Jeremy. Jean was here, he was fine. He wasn't dead in a ditch or on a bus back to Edgar Allen. Relief bloomed in Jeremy's chest and he closed his eyes for a few seconds. He nodded a couple of times. Thank god. He hadn't fucked it up too badly, not this time.

Jean was probably on his way back to the apartment right now.

Thank god.

JM

Jean was slightly awed, though he would never let anyone see it. This was unlike any store he had ever been in. It was small, but there was so much. They seemed to have everything, even if it was all piled up to the ceiling. He tried not to feel inspired by the afternoon with Angel, but it simply didn't work. Once he had faced it, had jumped back in and done it again, it was hopeless to resist. It had been forever since Jean had even felt this way about even guard. He was buzzing, though his face remained impassive, his mouth flatlined.

The colors were the best part. One aisle in particular was something spectacular. On Jean's left side was a wall of crisp white, and the right side was a rainbow.

He was suddenly struck by the eerie feeling that this life wasn't his own. Surely this was some kind of fever dream, and Jean would soon wake up, sweating under silky black sheets. None of this felt real at all. The shop, and Jeremy, and the now familiar taste of pizza must all have been fragments of a far away memory drawn forward by illness or madness or an extreme wave of homesickness.

Madness. That word in particular stuck as the rest of Jean's train of thought chugged quickly by. Perhaps he had finally gone mad. Perhaps living with Riko had finally sent him over the edge. This was likely all happening inside his head, reality some unreachable place.

"Moreau. Christ. There you are." Jeremy felt his heartbeat in his ears as he flew around to see who was there, to block anything that might come his way. Alvarez stood a few feet away, arms at her sides. She was not a threat, Jean realized too late. He already had his arms out as though to shield his face. He quickly brought them down and drew them in toward his body. He didn't cross his arms often, didn't normally stand with such passive posture. He never used to feel ashamed. Here it seemed like one of his default emotions.

Alvarez didn't mention any of this, just spoke, in a surprisingly soft voice. "You should check your phone more often. Jeremy has been worried sick." When Jean didn't say anything she continued. "He got everyone together, made the team come looking for you."

"He," Jean felt his eyebrows pull down. "He what?" In came out angry, for some reason. No, he knew why, it was because he was angry.

"Look it's not you." She huffed. "It's, I don't know if Jeremy told you about his thing. I wouldn't be surprised at the rate you're going, but I don't know." Jean didn't really understand what she meant by this, but had no time to consider. "Anyway, he does it for everyone. He- something happened to him and he just gets worried. Last year I didn't show up to practice, and didn't give any notice and he freaked. Not like in the "why the hell aren't you at practice?" sort of way, but in the "where the hell are you I hope you're not dead" sort of way. In reality I just ditched because I wanted to go to a concert. It's just what he does. He won't get mad if you ask about it, but he might not tell you either." Alvarez took a deep breath. She had been speaking very quickly. "Anyway, I'm going to call him now."

Jean was still absorbing, was still reeling from possible madness, was still suspicious of his own surroundings. He didn't feel much like he was real. He wasn't sure if he ever would be again.

He followed Alvarez out of the shop, wordlessly. She murmured on the phone to Jeremy, but it felt far away, as though the sound waves were traveling through water instead of air. "Can you speak to him?" Angel asked, in the way one does when you want the person your with to know wha the person on the phone was saying. She raised her eyebrows at Jean as she said it. Jean shook his head in answer and Alvarez nodded. "Nah he's already in the car. I'm just going to drive him back to the apartments now. "It's fine Jeremy, Jesus. Goodbye." She hung up the phone and they both got into her car.

"Thank you." Jean said to her, because this wasn't real life. Politeness and shame were defaults, it was all very odd.

"Sure. I am taking you back there, though. You'll have to talk to him sometime, might as well rip off the band aid now. Just... go easy on him, will you? He has good intentions."

*

"You called the entire color guard to search for me." Jean said, as soon as the door clicked shut behind him. It wasn't a question. Jeremy was on the couch, his legs pulled up to his chest. Jean could tell he already felt guilty. "The first thing they all heard about me was that I was lost, like I am some sort of child you have to keep track of."

"I'm sorry, Jean, I-"

"You look at me like I'm about to break. I do not want your pity."

"That's not what- I swear Jean, it's my fault. I always d-" Jean held up a hand and Jeremy fell silent. Jean could see Jeremy was getting more and more frustrated at his inability to express himself.

"Alvarez told me you've done it before." Jean conceded. Jeremy's eyes flew open. "She didn't tell me why." Now the captain just looked strained, undecided.

"It was- I-"

"Knox." Jean snapped. "Don't say it, not if you don't want to." Jeremy let out a giant sigh.

"I- I don't." He looked relieved, and slightly ill.

"Fine." Jean spoke with a shrug, because it was fine. "Just, I need you to... to not do that again."

"Okay. But, can you also not do that again?" Jeremy asked.

"Do what? Leave the apartment?!"

"You didn't answer your phone Jean." He said weakly. "I must have called thirty times."

In all truth, Jeremy had completely forgotten about the very existence phone in his back pocket until that exact moment. He hadn't owned one until he quit the Ravens. Anyone he might have needed to speak to was in walking distance. He wasn't in the habit of checking, and wasn't expecting enough calls to leave the volume up. And now a dark weight of guilt and embarrassment fell onto his shoulders.

"Oh." Was all he could manage, and Jeremy began to shake his head in alarm.

"Stop, no! Don't feel bad, I'm not blaming you! It was my fault, completely. Seriously Jean."

"Alright, alright."

"It wasn't your fault. I'm crazy about stuff like that."

"It wasn't your fault either." The words surprised Jean as much as they surprised Jeremy. Jean swayed a bit where he stood, feeling out of place, but also feeling real, like the world was falling back into place around him.

Jeremy stared up at him now, expression unreadable. Jean held the eye contact, because he felt like this was important, and because he wouldn't lose at this, either. The moment was charged, electric. Jean wasn't yet attuned enough to the world of social interaction to place the feeling, but it was something intense. He thought for a second that Jeremy might tell him about his thing with diaapearances after all, but the Trojan just stayed quiet, stayed staring at Jean's face until his focus wasn't truly there anymore, until he was no longer looking at Jean but was looking at the wall behind his back. He was lost in thought.

Jean didn't want to move, for fear of snapping Jeremy out of whatever was happening in his brain.

There was a knock at the door. It was the kind of cheery, unassuming knock of someone who oblivious to the possibility of something heated happening on the other side. So, Jean figured it was Leila or someone entirely uninvolved.

Jean jumped at the sound. Jeremy didn't start, but he refocused and spoke, if his voice still sounded distracted.

"I ordered food." He explained. "Don't worry, not pizza this time. I'm sure you're tired of it by now." It was the sort of Jeremy comment that would usually be accompanied with a chuckle, but it was not. Jean was actually mildly disappointed at this and the lack of pizza, as he was quickly becoming a huge fan of both. Jeremy stood and paid for the Chinese, ignoring he cash Jean quickly fished from his pocket and attempted to thrust at the man over Jeremy's shoulder. This was getting ridiculous.

The door closed.

"I'm not a child, Jeremy." Jean said tersely.

"No, you're not." Jeremy agreed. He was still light years away.

"Then let me pay for my own food every once in a while." Jean snapped.

Frustratingly, Jeremy didn't answer, just set the bag on the table. Jean resolved to slip some money into Jeremy's wallet like he had the previous nights. Jeremy hadn't seemed to notice so far. This was a win in itself, so Jean dropped it.

The food was good, different than anything Jean was used to eating. He still preferred pizza.

"So," Jeremy spoke without warning, stabbing at his food. "You went with Angel to the studio." It wasn't a question. Jean said nothing. "And Alvarez found you in the art supply store." Jean could tell Jeremy was trying to keep his voice level, not to let anything mildly curious slip into his tone. He saw the question in Jeremy's eyes, though. The _want to tell me about that?_ But he maybe also saw the _Don't, if you don't want to._ Jean took a bite of his noodles: _I don't_.

It was a silent rendition of their conversation from earlier, a mirror image, a confirmation that neither of them really knew the other, that they both had skeletons. 

At least that's what Jean thought. He couldn't possibly know that Jeremy understood, and yet, the subject was dropped immediately. "That's cool." Is all Jeremy said, in the end.

It wasn't, but that was tomorrow's problem.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to talk about this weird ass fic, jerejean in general, or color guard PLEASE come to my askbox @ballerinalouis@tumblr.com


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